


Snapshots from a Wedding

by Fialleril



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: (there is no DC Reboot in Ba Sing Se), Canon - Comics & Cartoon Combination, F/M, Flash Family Shenanigans, Fluff, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Pre-Reboot, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tags Update with New Chapters, Weddings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-03-26 11:53:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19005268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fialleril/pseuds/Fialleril
Summary: Linda Park and Wally West are getting married.Shenanigans ensue.





	1. Invitations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Triscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triscribe/gifts).



> Shout out to Triscribe, who encouraged me to actually start writing this thing that's been kicking around in my head.
> 
> I’m envisioning this as a series of short one-shots about the shenanigans surrounding the Park/West wedding. It's mainly set in a comics-based universe (primarily Mark Waid's run on The Flash), with some JLU influence. (Basically, it’s comics ‘verse but with JLU’s version of the Trickster, and John and Shayera will probably be making appearances later on because I love them too much to leave them out.) And some stuff is my headcanon. Basically this is my ideal universe, because comics canon is what you make it, anyway.

Linda woke to the smell of pancakes and the slightly off-key sounds of Wally’s attempt at Rick Astley drifting in from the kitchen. She briefly considered staying in bed – after all, if she waited another few minutes to get up, there would almost certainly be breakfast in bed in her future – but really, she was awake now and that was just that.

With a rueful smile she pushed off the covers and bent to search for her slippers.

Rickrolled by her own fiancé. The day was off to a promising start.

Intent on pancakes, Linda stumbled through the living room with barely a glance spared and stepped through the kitchen doorway just as Wally started in on the chorus. She bit back a snort of laughter as she realized he was actually flipping pancakes in time with the song.

“Never gonna give you up” – a pancake arced gracefully through the air – “Never gonna let you down” – and landed again on the skillet. In the time it took the pancake to complete this journey, Wally, singing all the while, had poured two mugs of coffee, filled one with a truly ungodly amount of sugar, and arranged them along with plates and forks on two breakfast trays. There was a rose in a clear vase on one of the trays, and a little sticky note with a smiley face peeking out from under it.

So, it definitely would have been breakfast in bed then.

Oh well. She didn’t particularly need to laze around in bed all day, and it was already – Linda glanced at the clock on the microwave and did a double take.

6:07 a.m. It was 6:07 in the morning.

She groaned and scraped a hand over her eyes.

If Wally was startled by the sound, he recovered too quickly for her to notice. The pancake flipped from the skillet onto what had to be her plate, and Wally spun to face her with a smile. “Morning,” he said brightly.

Whatever had been bothering him last night had apparently resolved itself with the morning. That was enough of a relief that she was willing to overlook the outrageously early hour, but it didn’t mean Linda was going to let the matter go without answers.

“Morning,” she said, pecking him on the cheek. “What’s all this about?”

Wally contrived to look offended. “Do I need a reason to make my beautiful fiancée breakfast in bed?” he asked, pouting and fixing her with a pair of puppy eyes that could have made even supervillains decide to rethink their lives (and had, if Piper and James were anything to go by).

Linda laughed in his face. “Well, now I’m really suspicious, Mister! What’s going on? Spill.”

“Okay, okay,” Wally said. It was amazing how he could go from adorably childish puppy eyes to the obnoxious rolling eyes of a teenager in about half a second. “But can we talk over breakfast? I’m kind of starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Linda said fondly, but she grabbed the tray intended for her without any further protest. At some point when she wasn’t paying attention, a bowl of fresh strawberries and whipped cream had appeared next to the pancakes. “Come on, let’s eat in the living room.”

They did have a dining table, technically, but if Linda was honest she had to admit they used it more as a place to keep bills and keys than anything else. The table was rickety and chipped in several places, and the chairs were about as comfortable as something you’d expect to find in a police interrogation room. Actually, Linda wouldn’t be entirely surprised if that was exactly where they’d come from. She’d lived in a loft with only a bar counter before they’d moved in together, so Wally had brought the table and chairs. He’d been oddly proud of them – they were _real_ wood, he’d mentioned several times – and she’d never had the heart to suggest they get something nicer. They didn’t really have the extra cash for something like that, anyway.

She was definitely putting a dining set on their wedding registry, though.

Wally followed her into the living room without a word, though there was just the hint of a smirk peeking around his lips. She knew that look. He was waiting for her to realize something, and he was definitely going to laugh when she did.

“Okay, buster,” Linda said, sinking into the couch and stabbing with gusto into her pancakes. “What’s going on?”

Wally shrugged. “Just felt like pancakes this morning,” he said, still watching her with that slight smile.

Linda definitely wasn’t complaining. The pancakes were blueberry chocolate chip, and they were delicious. Still…she peered closely at him, noted the nearly invisible traces of dark circles under his eyes. “Did you actually sleep at all last night?”

Surprisingly, his smile widened. “Yeah,” he said. “Got a whole hour.”

Linda gave in to the urge to roll her eyes. “God, I hate your metabolism.”

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” Wally said, nodding sagely.

Linda snorted and moved to set her nearly empty breakfast tray on the coffee table, before remembering that, of course, it was covered in wedding invitations. She started to draw her hands back, except…

Except that the coffee table was, in fact, perfectly clear.

She blinked. Then she looked sidelong at Wally. To her surprise, he looked more sheepish than smug.

“Wally,” she said slowly. “Did you deliver the invites?”

“Not me,” he said with a rueful shrug. When she simply raised an eyebrow, he added, “Bart came by last night and he…kinda got excited about things. Took him about two minutes to deliver everything, I think.” There was a distinct note of pride in his voice at that.

“Oh,” said Linda. “Well. I guess that saves us on postage.”

Wally laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, it definitely does that.”

Linda took a sip of coffee and hid a grimace. It wasn’t practically poisoned with sugar like his, but Wally never could seem to grasp what “just a pinch” of sugar actually meant. “So…when you say he delivered everything, you mean…”

“He delivered _everything_ ,” Wally sighed. “Yeah.”

Linda’s eyes drifted involuntarily to the near right corner of the coffee table, where just yesterday there’d been a small stack of invitations set apart from the rest. The ones they hadn’t actually decided whether to send or not.

“Well,” she said finally. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

“You think?”

“Yeah,” said Linda, the idea growing on her. “Yeah, I do. I mean, we’d never hear the end of it from your mother if we didn’t invite her. And your father –”

“Probably would have crashed the wedding if we didn’t invite him,” Wally said with a groan. “Yeah. _That_ would have been just fantastic.”

“So…whatever happens, it can’t be worse than that?” said Linda. She’d meant it to be reassuring, but it came out as more of a question. She’d met Wally’s mom a couple of times, and could pretty much guarantee they were in for a scathing critique on everything from the venue to the cake to the moral quality of the other guests, but they could deal with that. His father, though…

“He’ll probably bring an escort as a date,” Wally snorted.

“The poor woman,” Linda quipped unthinkingly, then slapped a hand over her mouth in horror. “I’m so–”

But Wally was laughing in unapologetic delight. “God, I love you,” he said, his laughter softening to something warm and tender that still made her stomach flip, just a little. “You know that, right?”

She kissed him, and tasted chocolate and blueberries. “You’d better,” she said, resting her forehead on his and letting her eyes slip closed. “So, are you ever going to tell me what happened last night?”

She felt him shift, and then one of his hands tangled with hers. “Just…I don’t know.” He sighed, but it was more content than anything. “I guess I just got caught up in thinking. About you. This. I mean…I love you, Linda. So much. And sometimes it…I’m afraid that I’ll never be enough. That I can’t be everything you deserve. And I –”

Linda’s eyes popped open and she sat back with a scowl. “Wally West! Now you’re just being ridiculous. Of course you’re enough. You’re more than enough.”

He fidgeted, vibrating just a little and looking oddly shy. “Well. Yeah. Um. But what I mean is, I want this to be…I want us to be…I mean…”

“I love you too, you know,” Linda said, smiling softly. “And that’s not going to change. We’re going to be happy, Wally. We already _are_ , and it’s just going to get better. I for one am really looking forward to seeing what you’re like when you’re old and grey. Maybe then you’ll finally learn how to slow down.”

Wally blinked, then threw his head back in a full-bellied laugh. “Ha! Not a chance. Jay hasn’t slowed down, after all.”

“And yet Joan still puts up with him,” Linda said. “So we’ll be fine.”

He looked a little startled, and then a little sheepish and a little pleased at the same time. “Yeah,” he said. “I know.” A rueful smile. “I was up most of the night working that out for myself, but I do know.”

“As long as you believe it now,” said Linda, leaning back against his shoulder. “You know, I’ve only met your father once, Wally, but I honestly couldn’t imagine anyone less like you if I tried.”

He was silent for a moment that seemed brief enough to her but must have been an eternity to him. Finally he let out a soft huff of breath and smiled. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

Linda shrugged, taking another sip of her too-sweet coffee. It wasn’t so bad, really. Well, it was, but she didn’t mind too much. “Of course I do,” she said. “I’m a reporter. Knowing what to say is kind of my thing.”

He bumped her shoulder and grinned, but left it at that.

“Besides,” said Linda, “you know my parents adore you. My mom was practically ready to draw up adoption papers after the first time I brought you home, but Dad convinced her to wait. Apparently, he knew all the way back then that I’d make an honest man of you someday.”

Wally fairly beamed at her. “Really?”

“Yup. I’m telling you now, because he’s almost certainly going to repeat that story at the reception, and I figure if you already know, I can’t be embarrassed by it.”

“Ah,” Wally nodded. “Very practical.” He paused, then grinned. “So, does this mean that after we’re married, your mom will finally agree to teach me some of her secret family recipes?”

Linda snickered. “Will she agree? Hell, she’ll probably steal you away the minute the reception’s over.”

“Sweet!” He cast her a sly glance from under his lashes. “But…maybe not the _minute_ the reception’s over. I think I’ve got other plans first.”

Linda shot him a smirk of her own. “Yes, I think you do,” she said, and kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole scene is basically the morning after for a scene that happened in the comics, where Wally had a fit of pre-wedding jitters one night because he was honestly terrified a whole lifetime wouldn't be enough to love Linda as much as she deserves. God what a hopeless romantic dweeb. I love him.
> 
> Also, Wally's dad absolutely did bring an escort as his date to the wedding in the comics, and Linda is 100% right that no woman should have to put up with Rudy West for a whole night. :(


	2. Bart Delivers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bart has a very exciting two minutes, and assorted speedsters, Bats, and Rogues are varying degrees of annoyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically this takes place the night before Chapter 1.
> 
> I’m using the versions of Trickster and John Stewart (and his terrifying landlady) from JLU, and I’ve borrowed the idea of Captain Cold having a wife from JLU, as well. (Because, come on, there’s too much comedic potential there to pass up.)
> 
> Finished this a lot sooner than I expected, because honestly, Bart is really fun and really easy to write. It’s like stream of consciousness writing. Amazing.

There sure were an awful lot of invitations. It took Bart a whole nanosecond to flip through them and read all the names. Why did Wally and Linda want that many people at their wedding, anyway?

He thought about asking Wally exactly that, but only for a fraction of a picosecond. Wally’s answer for why he was getting married in the first place was “it’s more romantic,” so obviously he wasn’t going to give Bart any serious answers.

Anyway, all these invitations obviously weren’t going to do anybody any good just sitting there on the coffee table. Bart didn’t waste much time wondering why Wally hadn’t just delivered them himself. Sometimes he was just lazy like that. Must be a boring old grownup thing.

Linda wasn’t nearly as boring, _and_ she could actually beat him at Mario Kart sometimes. Okay, most of the time. Really Linda was pretty cool, and Bart figured she would have easily delivered the invitations herself, if she had superspeed. But she didn’t.

So, obviously, it was up to him.

It took him almost a whole second to sort the invites by address, but that was only after he’d dashed out of Wally and Linda’s apartment with the whole stash of them, because sometimes Wally got weirdly particular about things, and Bart figured he was on a roll, he _had_ this, he could get them all delivered in five minutes tops, no problem. Probably faster. Definitely faster. And then that would be one less thing for Wally to be worried about, and that would probably make Linda happy, too, and then maybe they’d both agree to play Mario Kart with him tomorrow, but he’d tell Max it was important Flash business or something and then he wouldn’t have to do any of those weird Speed Force meditation things all day and this was gonna be _great_.

So great.

Okay, okay, right now he needed to focus, obviously. He’d wasted…wow, a whole half a nanosecond already.

Time to get serious, Bart, he thought, setting his jaw in his best Batman impression. Wally always laughed at him and said it wasn’t a very good impression, but what did he know about a proper Batman impression? He was friends with Nightwing, and yeah, Nightwing was super cool, and also Batman’s first protégé, but he was _also_ a huge goofball who smiled all the time, almost as much as Wally himself did, so obviously he wasn’t very good at imitating Batman. So maybe Bart wasn’t that great either. Whatever. He was definitely better at it than Wally. Or Nightwing. So there.

Hey, speaking of Batman…

He’d put the invites addressed to Gotham on the top of the stack, because _everybody_ knew that Batman had a strict “no metas in Gotham” policy, and Bart knew exactly what _that_ meant.

It meant he was gonna have to be extra super fast and extra super stealthy, and he _probably_ couldn’t afford any snack breaks.

Which sucked, because Linda had gone to Gotham for some report a couple weeks ago and she’d told him all about this pizza place she went to there that would let you combine absolutely any ingredients you wanted and they even had _frog legs_. Which sounded a little weird, to be honest, but obviously that just meant he would have to try it. For science! Except he couldn’t because it was in Gotham and Batman had that silly rule about metas.

Maybe he could kind of sneak his way in? Ooh, if he went with Linda and pretended to be, like, her intern or something and was really, really careful never to use his speed, maybe Batman would never know?

Except it was Batman, and Wally said that it was usually safest to just assume that Batman knew everything.

Maybe…

No. That wasn’t important now! Time to get serious. This was a serious mission. He was a serious superhero. Everything was very serious.

And besides, he’d already wasted another whole picosecond!

With a very serious and very Batman-like scowl, Bart set off for Gotham at top speed.

It was suitably dark and gritty and yeah, okay, there were kind of a lot of gargoyles, but honestly? He wasn’t that impressed. He’d been here a whole second and delivered three invitations already, and he hadn’t seen even _one_ clown-themed criminal, or any murderous plants either. Not even an exploding umbrella!

Huh. Kind of a rip-off. Maybe Batman really _was_ the scariest thing in this town.

*

The proximity alarms screamed a shrill alert. Level 5. That would mean someone was already inside the Batcave.

Alfred, just stepping off the lift with a tea tray, blinked. Bruce didn’t.

Neither of them saw anything.

The alarm abruptly died away. Alfred blinked again, and glanced down at his tray. The plate of freshly baked cookies was empty, but in their place was a slightly wrinkled envelope.

Ah.

“Delivery for you, Master Bruce.”

*

Bart, already on his way out of Bludhaven, licked the last traces of chocolate from his lips. Alfred made the best cookies. Probably that was the _real_ reason Batman didn’t want other supers in Gotham. Bart could respect that. He wouldn’t want to share those cookies, either.

*

Len Snart wasn’t a man who held many things sacred in life. In fact there was pretty much only one thing he did, and that was late night Sunday dinner with the wife. Janice cooked the best chicken-fried steak in the whole Midwest, and it tasted just as good at 2:00 a.m. as it did at 7:00 p.m.

So he wasn’t feeling too inclined to be forgiving when a gust of wind blew through his dining room, tipping over Janice’s third favorite vase and apparently causing half the mashed potatoes to disappear into the bargain.

He stood with a growl and reached for his cold gun, even though the damn speedster was definitely long gone by now. But Janice’s glare had him holstering the weapon almost before it was drawn.

Right. No weapons at the table. He kept forgetting.

“Sit _down_ , Len,” she snapped. “Can’t we just have a nice dinner for once in our lives?”

Len sat, though not without some grumbling. She was blaming _him_ for that? Really? Damn entitled speedsters.

“That’s quite enough of that,” said Janice, dividing the remaining potatoes between them without any apparent annoyance, or at least, none that wasn’t directed at him. “He’s a growing boy. He needs his vegetables.”

Len stared at her. It took him a little longer than he’d have liked to admit, but he eventually realized she must be right. Flash was a pain in his ass for sure, but the man did have _some_ understanding of boundaries. Impulse, though. _That_ kid thought he could go anywhere he damn well pleased.

Seemed he was pretty well right about that, too, which did nothing to improve Len’s mood.

“Anyway, I think we should go,” Janice was saying.

Len glanced up from his steak. “Go?”

“To the _wedding_ ,” said Janice, in the tone of someone who possessed a vast reserve of patience which was, nevertheless, nearly exhausted. “Honestly, Len.”

She waved an invitation in his face, and he snatched it from her with a growl.

It was addressed to Len and Janice Snart, which he had to admit was a nice touch – he’d never gotten a formal invitation that wasn’t addressed to “Leonard,” and he _hated_ that.

Of course, the little face with the tongue sticking out drawn next to his name wasn’t so nice, but that was clearly Impulse’s doing.

So Flash was getting married, huh? That could be a rare opportunity. He could –

“It’s very nice of them to invite us,” said Janice. Her tone made it clear that he would certainly find it nice, if he knew what was good for him. “Don’t you think, dear?”

“Very nice,” said Len, dreams of the perfect heist disappearing like a Flash.

*

Max Mercury caught the invite before it had even begun to flutter toward the table. “Bart!” he called in the direction of the red and white blur exiting his kitchen. “Remember we have a run tomorrow!”

“I _know_ ,” a laughing voice called back, and then the blur was gone.

*

“Hey Bart!”

“Hi Jesse! Bye Jesse!”

*

There was the slightest hint of vibration in the air, and then the entire complex array of mirrors collapsed. Sam Scudder blinked. He blinked again. He blinked a third time for good measure.

“Damn it, Flash!”

There was no answer except the faint echo of a rather childish laugh – so not Flash, then, but even _worse_ – and then a somewhat battered envelope fluttered to the floor.

*

John Stewart wasn’t home, which made what Bart was about to attempt even more dangerous. Wally had told him about John’s landlady. Bart was pretty sure that Wally exaggerated sometimes just to mess with him, but he wasn’t taking any chances with this one. That broom of hers sounded _way_ worse than anything Batman could throw at him.

So this mission called for stealth and extreme cunning. Maybe even theme music.

Humming Mission Impossible to himself at superspeed (he’d watched the original with Linda, and then made Wally and Linda both sit through all of the sequels and remakes), Bart vibrated through John’s wall.

There was a dull crash and he looked down to find a US Marine Corps poster in a splintered wooden frame on the floor.

“Oops.”

Had to work on that vibrating trick. He was _not_ gonna tell Max about this.

“Who’s there?” a furious voice called down the hall. Nope. Now was not the time to worry about John’s posters.

Bart dropped the invite on top of the downed frame and booked it out of there.

*

Somebody had triggered the pudding canon security system. James could tell, because the level of pudding in the canon was pretty significantly down from full, and he’d just refilled it three hours ago.

He hadn’t _seen_ anybody, though, and there also wasn’t delicious chocolatey goodness all over his walls or even any on the floor. Which meant his visitor was a speedster. They were the only people fast enough to devour his nefarious projectiles before impact. James was a little jealous.

Flasher would have said hi if it was him, though. James was sure of that. Last time the guy dropped by, he even brought a new dartboard!

So it was probably Impulse. James frowned a little to himself. It was too bad the kid hadn’t stuck around, really. He needed someone to test his new boomeringue on.

He didn’t spot the invitation until he’d already sat on it, and he only found it after that because the whoopee cushion it was resting under was really impressively loud.

James grinned to himself. That Impulse kid had a lot of potential.

*

Wally was _still_ standing there in the living room, in almost exactly the same place Bart had left him two whole minutes ago. Man, sometimes grownups were _weird_.

“All done!” Bart chirped. “Feel free to leave Impulse Express Deliveries a generous tip if you’re satisfied with our services!”

A loud, resigned sigh escaped Wally, but Bart noticed he was smiling a little, too. “Here’s a tip for you, kid: next time, _ask_ before you take off.”

Bart scoffed. “Yeah, sure, whatever, next time you go and get married I definitely will.” There was a little laugh from Wally at that. He was kind of a huge sap, really, and Bart knew there wasn’t going to be a next time. “Anyway, you _should_ be congratulating me.”

“Yeah?” asked Wally. “And why’s that?”

“Because I totally broke your record!” Bart crowed gleefully. “In and out of Gotham in three seconds flat! _And_ that includes a trip to the Batcave.”

It looked like Wally actually needed a picosecond to process that. Ha! Take _that_ , Mr. Fastest Man Alive!

Then Wally’s smile turned sly. “You got proof of that, kiddo?”

Bart gasped in outrage. “Delivered your invitations, didn’t I?”

“Sure, sure. Got them all done in two minutes, too, which _is_ pretty impressive.” In spite of himself, Bart beamed at this, but it quickly turned to a scowl when Wally snickered and added, “Doesn’t prove you did Gotham in three seconds, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Bart huffed. “Well, you got any proof that _you_ actually raced the Black Flash to the heat death of the universe?”

Wally looked offended. “Yes. I do. Got Linda back, didn’t I?”

“Sure, sure,” Bart mocked. “Doesn’t prove you actually went to the end of the universe, though.”

For a second Wally almost looked mad, then he burst out laughing. “Okay, okay. You beat my record. You want a medal?”

“Nah,” said Bart, feeling rather magnanimous. “I’ll settle for beating your butt at Mario Kart tomorrow. Oh, and you have to tell Max. You have to tell him how bad I smashed your record.”

“Sure, I’ll tell him. Tomorrow. After I pick you up from your training session.”

“Aw, _man_.”

“Sorry, kid,” said Wally, ruffling his hair faster than Bart could duck out of his reach. He laughed again at Bart’s scowl. “But, hey, I’ll make you a deal. After I tell Max, we can come back here and Linda can beat both of our butts at Mario Kart.”

“I _guess_ ,” muttered Bart. “So…you do believe that I did Gotham in three seconds, right?”

He knew he sounded a little more hopeful and a lot more needy than he ever wanted to admit to, so it was actually pretty decent of Wally that he just grinned and said, “Yeah, I believe you,” and left it at that.

“Well, that’s good,” said Bart, reaching into his pocket. “‘cause if you didn’t, there’s no way I’d give you this.”

The cookie was a little squashed looking, and the chocolate chips were all melty from his speed, but hey, that just made them taste even better, right?

Wally must have agreed, because he lit up like Andy’s Frozen Custard had just announced free all-you-can-eat ice cream for speedsters. “Is that one of Alfred’s cookies?”

“Saved it for you,” said Bart, handing it over and watching it disappear in short order. “Because I’m such a good cousin.”

“You’re the best, Bart,” said Wally, licking chocolate from his fingers.

Bart shrugged modestly. “I know,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bart canonically asked Wally why he and Linda were getting married since they already lived together, and Wally honest to God answered with "it's more romantic." What a hopeless dweeb. 
> 
> Contrary to Bart's belief Nightwing actually can do a pretty damn good Batman impression. It's just generally reserved for criminals and Bart's never seen it. 
> 
> I have no idea if the "no metas in Gotham" thing is canon anywhere in comics or just JLU fanon, but it's hilarious either way so I'm rolling with it. 
> 
> As for Bart's reference to the heat death of the universe: the Black Flash is the incarnation of death for speedsters. This one time it decided it was gonna snatch Wally but got Linda by mistake, and to get her back Wally challenged the incarnation of death to a race with the immortal words "Let's Boogie." Absolutely iconic. He raced Death to the end of the universe where even Death dies, grabbed Linda from the Speed Force, then turned around and ran back home. As you do.


	3. Registry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Captain Cold wants some information, and Linda just wants a break.

Linda stepped through the door to the fourth level of the parking garage and found a gun pointed at her face.

She experienced a surreal moment of almost perfect, unthinking calm, before realizing two things at once: there was really only one man who would wear a full parka and goggles in the stifling heat of Keystone’s summer, and the gun pointed at her was a very distinctive cold gun.

She relaxed.

“Captain Cold. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

In spite of the fact that he was the one with the gun, Captain Cold looked decidedly uncomfortable. Linda bit back a smile. He was, after all, holding a gun, and although she doubted he would actually use it against her, there was no reason to tempt fate.

“You’re going to answer a question for me, Ms. Park,” he snapped. “And you’re not going to tell Flash we had this little talk. We clear?”

Linda took her time considering her options. Finally, she decided it was pretty evident that Captain Cold wasn’t especially used to dealing with the press, and this could actually be a great opportunity if she played her cards right.

“Seems pretty clear to me,” she said.

“Right,” said Cold. He hesitated a moment, then holstered the cold gun. But he didn’t let his hand drift too far from it. “Right.”

Linda waited a moment. When it became clear nothing else was forthcoming, she prodded, “Your question?”

“Right,” he said again, shifting on his feet and looking away from her.

Now Linda was getting really curious. She coughed to recapture his attention, and when he glanced up with a start she fixed him with the same look that had made politicians and convicted murderers alike spill their most closely guarded secrets.

“Well, it’s like this,” Captain Cold mumbled, still fidgeting just a bit. “The wife wants to know where you’re registered.”

Linda blinked. “I’m sorry?”

Cold scowled at her, looking utterly disgusted. “Where you’re _registered_ ,” he snapped. “For the _wedding_.”

“Oh,” said Linda, so surprised that she answered without really thinking. “Um. Target? And JC Penny’s? Oh, and there’s a few things at Macy’s and Pottery Barn, but those are more like a rainy day wish list, or if somebody’s feeling really generous, you know?”

Cold _stared_ at her.

Now it was Linda’s turn to shift uncomfortably. She really wasn’t sure what to make of that look.

“What?” she demanded at last, tired of the lengthening silence. “You did ask.”

Cold now appeared to be staring past her as he muttered, seemingly to himself, “Target. Flash is getting married and he’s registered at _Target_.”

“Do you…have something against Target?” Linda asked. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. After all, Piper had started out as a Rogue and even back then he’d had a laundry list of terrible corporations he’d absolutely refused to patronize, unless you counted a robbery as patronization. Linda didn’t think Cold seemed the type to engage in corporate activism, but you never knew.

“It’s _Target_ ,” spluttered Cold, apparently outraged. “And he’s the Flash! That’s gotta be worth _something_!”

Ah. Now Linda thought she was beginning to understand. It wasn’t entirely different from her mom’s reaction when she first learned that her daughter was dating a superhero who lived paycheck to paycheck and was on a first name basis at pretty much every discount shop and thrift store in town.

Of course, Linda thought fondly, Wally was on a first name basis with nearly everyone. But still.

“It’s worth quite a lot,” she said, offering Cold a genuine smile. “Just not…monetarily.”

He looked downright scandalized.

Linda couldn’t help it. She laughed. “Look, if it bothers you that much and you really want to splurge, you can always take a look at the Macy’s registry.”

Cold shot her a glare that could only be described as icy. The little Wally in the back of her head snickered at the pun. “The hell I will,” he practically snarled, and then stood there fuming silently. Linda wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that, really.

So she took a stab in the dark. “You know, Len, if you really want to get us something we’ll appreciate, you and the Rogues could take a week off, let us actually have a honeymoon, maybe?”

Cold scoffed incredulously. “Oh, yeah, _that’s_ likely,” he said. “Anyway, where do you get off calling me that, exactly?”

Linda shrugged. “Wally usually calls you all by your names, when he talks about you. Guess I’ve just gotten used to it.”

He was staring at her again, but this time his expression was a little easier to read. It was caught somewhere between incoherent fury and just the barest hint of a pleased little smirk. “There’s something wrong in the head with that boy,” he muttered darkly.

Linda eyed his ski-lift-in-the-middle-of-July look pointedly. “Uh huh,” she said. She kept her voice entirely free of inflection as she added, “Well, this has been nice, but I really should be going. Need to write up a blurb about this for tomorrow’s news, you know.” She paused and shot him a hopeful look. “Unless you’d like to record a video segment? That would be great.”

For just a moment, he looked genuinely surprised. Then the expression was replaced by a mask of what could only be called cold fury. “We agreed this conversation was between us,” he said, slow and pointedly deliberate.

Linda smirked. “No, we agreed that I wouldn’t tell Flash anything about this. And I won’t. But you never said this conversation was off the record.”

There was a moment of silence while Cold gaped at her as though he’d been expecting the Queen of England and found himself confronted with Batman instead.

“What do you want?” he said at last.

Linda smiled. “Oh, plenty of things. World peace, a do-over of the last presidential election, a decent student loan forgiveness program, a damn raise… But I’ll settle for a nice, uninterrupted week-long honeymoon.”

Cold went on glowering down at her, and she was starting to fear he wasn’t going to go for it when he heaved a sigh and said, grudgingly, “I’ll think about it. But I can’t speak for the rest of the Rogues.”

Linda held his gaze. They both knew that wasn’t true. Officially, the Rogues didn’t have a leader, but Cold wasn’t called “Captain” for nothing.

“Of course not,” said Linda with just an edge of a smirk. “I’d never ask you to.”

“Guess we understand each other, then,” said Cold gruffly, already stepping back into the shadows. “And you won’t breathe a word of this to Flash.” His scowl deepened, and he added, “ _Or_ on live television.”

“Not a word,” said Linda with a bright smile. “Have a nice evening, Len.” Then she turned and made for her car without a backward glance.

She could feel Cold’s eyes on her the whole way. He must have thought she was too far away to hear his mumbled words, but she caught them.

“Flash is a lucky guy,” Cold muttered to himself, without even a hint of sarcasm.

Linda smiled to herself as she started her car. It was ancient, practically older than she was, but Wally had tinkered with the engine until it nearly purred.

He was probably out running around with Bart right now, creating crop circles in a Nebraska corn field or something. He’d promised he’d have dinner waiting for her at 8:00 tonight, and that was only fifteen minutes away now, but she wasn’t worried. He’d be on time.

She might not, the way traffic was moving right now, but that was Keystone in the summer for you. Too many people and too few roads, all built decades ago for a much smaller city, all pitted with potholes and sticky with hot asphalt. It was something you learned to live with. Not everyone could run halfway across town in the blink of an eye.

The smile was back, Cold’s muttered words replaying in her mind. Linda figured she was pretty lucky, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figure that comics exist in the eternal now, so Linda and Wally are broke ass millennials. Well, Wally's always been poor (even if the writers seem to forget that half the time), and Linda's only had her job at Channel 4 for a few years now and is still swimming in good old student loan debt.
> 
> Poor Len is just outraged that the guy who regularly stops him from robbing banks (and who could pretty easily rob those same banks himself!) apparently thinks that Macy's is the height of luxury.


	4. Taco Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are questionable fashion choices, and Wally gets a best man.

Dick had a fraction of a second’s warning, barely more than a change of pressure in the air, and then the three thieves he’d been in the process of taking down were half a block away, tied in a very startled looking circle around a flagpole like something out of a Saturday morning kids’ cartoon.

“Hey, Wally,” he called, and a second later the Flash appeared suddenly in front of him, grin first. “What brings you to Bludhaven?”

“What, no thank you?” Wally asked, grin widening.

Dick waved an airy hand. “I had it covered,” he said. “And you know that. So, you gonna answer my question or not?”

“Man, you are just all business tonight, aren’t you? Can’t a guy stop by for Taco Tuesday with his best bud?”

Dick snorted. “You’re gonna stick me with the bill again, aren’t you?”

“Nah,” said Wally carelessly. “I figure we’ll call it a working dinner and let the League cover it instead.”

So he was going to stick _Bruce_ with the bill, then. Dick allowed himself a small smirk. “Well, in that case…just let me take care of these guys and I’m all yours.”

It took about fifteen minutes to wrap everything up. During that time, Wally blurred away and back again at least five times, finally reappearing with an iced mocha in hand just as Dick announced he was ready to go.

“Awesome,” said Wally. “Let’s boogie.”

Dick rolled his eyes and grabbed his friend’s arm before he could disappear again. “Not so fast, Fleet Feet. I’m not going for tacos in costume.”

Wally shrugged. “Suit yourself, I guess,” he said, then snickered at the pun. “Meet you at your apartment?”

“Sure,” said Dick. “But what – ”

But of course Wally was already gone.

It took Dick another half hour to get back home, and when he did, he found Wally waiting impatiently in his living room, dressed in civvies. Dick briefly considered reminding him that the emergency key he had given him was meant to be exactly that, but it didn’t seem worth it.

“Make yourself at home,” he said drily, heading for his bedroom to retire Nightwing for the evening.

“Thanks!” Wally chirped from the couch, and Dick heard the snap of a pull tab and carbonation releasing an instant later. So he’d found Dick’s secret stash of cream soda, then. Damn. And Dick had been so sure the vegetable drawer would keep them safe.

He emerged a few moments later dressed in sweats and a tee shirt to find Wally just finishing off a bag of chips and his third cream soda. He at least had the grace to look sheepish about it, though the expression morphed into amusement once he got a good look at Dick.

“You slumming it tonight, Short Pants? Or are those Gucci sweats?”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Man, shut up. I’m allowed to be comfortable.”

Wally snickered.

“Are we doing tacos or not?” Dick grumbled. Really, if he was going to put up with this kind of treatment, he should at least get some tacos out of the deal.

“Yes, finally,” said Wally, leaping up from the couch.

Now it was Dick’s turn to eye him dubiously. “You’re wearing polka dot shorts and you’re judging my look?”

Wally only shrugged. “They’re comfortable,” he said with a smirk that practically dared Dick to comment. “Stole ‘em from Piper. Don’t tell him, though. He thinks he lost ‘em in the wash.”

Well, that certainly made sense, Dick thought. Piper was kind of gorgeous, in that skinny, geeky, bags-under-the-eyes way Dick had always liked, but his dress sense was nothing short of tragic. Dick knew better than to say anything, though. Doing so would only lead to more jokes about pixie boots and short pants. Not worth it.

“Well, as long as we’re both comfortable,” he said instead. “Let’s get tacos.”

*

“So,” said Dick, gesturing vaguely with his half-eaten burrito, “you gonna tell me what’s going on now?”

Wally glanced up from his eleventh taco – this one was chicken – and shrugged. Dick had tried earlier to suggest that, secret identity or no, maybe Wally should be a little more discreet with his eating habits, but the Flash had only laughed and assured him that was the beauty of Taco Tuesday: everyone would just assume he had the munchies.

The kid behind the counter hadn’t even blinked at his order, so he might be right about that.

“Well, I’m getting married,” Wally said.

Dick would have teased him about that obvious opener, but Wally’s face had lit up with all the delighted wonder and joyful amazement of a kid on his very first Christmas, and it was kind of impossible to make fun of such genuine happiness. Hell, Dick was man enough to admit he was actually a little jealous.

“Yeah, I got my invite the other day,” Dick said. But no matter how happy he was for his friend, he couldn’t resist adding, “Found it pinned to my kitchen counter, under three empty pints of Ben & Jerry’s and a couple sticky spoons.”

Wally winced a little. “Yeah, sorry about that. The kid tries. I mean…well. He tries.”

“The kid? You mean Bart? You let Bart deliver your invites?”

“Well, not so much _let_ ,” said Wally with a wry smile. “But he did, yeah. And – hey, wait a minute, you didn’t think _I_ raided your secret Ben & Jerry’s stash, did you?”

He actually sounded a little offended, though Dick wasn’t really sure why. “It’s not like you haven’t before.”

“Sure, sure, but I don’t leave dirty spoons on the counter, man! I thought you Bats were supposed to be masters of deductive reasoning or whatever. Come on!”

Okay, it was just possible that Dick deserved that. Maybe. “Okay, okay,” he laughed. “You’re a model of politeness when you break and enter. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” said Wally, and it was obviously meant to be a joke, but he really did look it. Probably thinking about Linda again.

He’d always been kind of a sap, Dick thought, a little wistfully.

“ _Anyway_ ,” said Wally, shaking himself a bit and returning to the moment, “I wanted to know if you’re still game to stick to our pact.”

Dick blinked. He considered that from multiple angles. Finally, he was forced to admit defeat. “Uh…remind me what pact that is, exactly?”

Wally laughed. “Knew you’d forget,” he said, without any heat. “Our _pact_ , man. The one we made when we were, like, fourteen, maybe fifteen? That we’d be each other’s best man if either of us ever got married.”

Dick _had_ forgotten about that, actually. He was kind of embarrassingly pleased that Wally hadn’t. “So…are you asking me to be your best man?”

“Well yeah,” said Wally with an easy shrug, as though this was both a foregone conclusion and, honestly, not that big a deal. “Of course I am.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if – ” Dick toyed with his beer, feeling weirdly like he was back in junior high or something. He was a little choked up. This was kind of ridiculous. “Thought maybe you’d ask Piper or something.”

“I mean, yeah, I’m planning to ask him too. Who says I can’t have two best men?” said Wally. He still sounded casually offhand, but he was watching Dick closely. “Only if that’s okay with you, though. You get first dibs.”

Dick laughed at that, and the tension broke and didn’t return. “Of course I’m okay with it,” he said. “And of course I’ll be your best man.”

“Awesome!” said Wally, pumping the air with a fist before rapidly polishing off three more tacos.

“Normally you’d ask that kind of thing _before_ sending out the invites, though,” Dick couldn’t resist pointing out.

Wally groaned. “Yeah, yeah. But…man, you _know_ how much has been happening lately. There’s League stuff and all that nonsense with Kobra and then last week _Grodd_ –”

“You need some time off, buddy.”

“Tell me about it.” Wally offered a tired grin. “I used up all my vacation time on freaking _Grodd_. I mean, couldn’t it at least have been Weather Wizard or Captain Boomerang or _something_?”

Dick still thought it was pretty unfair that Wally could be publicly out as the Flash and still have to use his vacation time to save the world, but he knew Wally would just wave him off if he brought it up. He had last time. Said it was fair, really: after all, “saving the world” wasn’t anywhere in a mechanic’s job description.

“Well, hey, at least you’ve got a Dick Grayson Original party in your future.”

“Huh?” asked Wally, sounding a little distracted. He’d finished his last taco a while ago now and seemed to be considering going back for more. Dick was probably gonna have to stop him. Nobody got the munchies that bad.

“It’s the best man’s job to plan the bachelor party,” Dick explained patiently. “So after you get around to asking Piper, you gotta give him my number, so we can plot together.” Wally shot him a look, and Dick grinned unapologetically. “Did I say plot? I meant plan, of course. Definitely plan. Nothing at all nefarious about that.”

“Reassuring,” said Wally drily. He glanced at the clock above the shop door and sighed. “As tempting as another five tacos sounds, I just know you’re seconds away from giving me a Bat Lecture, and I’m taking Linda out for ice cream in five, anyway.”

Dick laughed. “Ice cream? Wally, it’s three in the morning.”

“Not in Hawaii, it’s not. Catch you later, Short Pants!”

Then he was gone.

Dick glanced up from the now spotless table in front of him – guess Wally really did clean up after himself, though maybe he was just making a point – to find the kid behind the counter gaping at Wally’s now empty seat. Dick sighed, beginning to run through his library of excuses, until he heard the kid gasp to a coworker, “Oh my God, Bailey, did we just witness an alien abduction?!”

Bailey smirked but didn’t look away from the register. Evidently a possible alien abduction was not enough to distract from the important business of selling tacos. “Man, Gotham’s got nothing on Bludhaven.”

Dick chuckled softly to himself. Okay, so it was Excuse #83 then. He’d worked with worse.

With another shrug he stood, offered the two kids at the counter a jaunty wave, and stepped out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the actual comics Dick was the only best man, and of course he should be best man! Obviously! But Piper should be, too. So I'm fixing that. ;)
> 
> I was originally planning to feature both Dick and Piper in this chapter, but it was getting long enough already so I figured I'd post Dick's part now and Piper will have his own chapter next.
> 
> Assuming Gotham and Bludhaven are on the east coast, then 3:00 a.m. in Bludhaven is 9:00 p.m. in Hawaii, a perfectly respectable time for ice cream.


	5. The Care and Feeding of Rats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Piper gets a good meal with good friends, and Wally gets (another) best man.

Piper could always tell when Wally was around.

He was pretty sure Wally believed Piper’s hypersensitive hearing allowed him to feel the changes in vibration that came with a speedster’s sudden arrival, and since that was technically true, sometimes at least, Piper was happy to let him go on thinking that.

In fact, though, he didn’t need his superhearing to know that Wally was now hovering somewhere behind him. He only had to watch the rats.

They liked Wally, generally speaking – they’d gotten used to him in the days when he and Piper had been roommates, and they were often pretty excited to see him, because he almost always brought food. However, they’d never gotten used to him appearing quite suddenly out of thin air, and they didn’t like being startled.

So when the five rats who’d been hovering about his work table suddenly scattered, Piper knew what that meant. Without turning, he raised one hand over his shoulder and gestured for Wally to wait a moment. Then he focused his attention back on the task at hand.

Could it have waited? Probably. But sometimes it was a lot more fun making Wally wait, instead.

Besides, if it was an emergency, Wally would let him know. He hadn’t yet, so Piper had all the time in the world.

There was a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, and then Wally was perched casually on the corner of Piper’s work table. He was wearing civvies, so definitely not an emergency, then.

Wally’s mouth moved. While Piper _could_ read lips, if he did that, Wally would never learn. So instead he just raised one sardonic eyebrow and tapped a finger against his right ear.

Wally rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too. _Hey buddy_ , he signed. _Got a question for you._

_Just give me a minute_ , Piper signed back, already returning to his work without waiting for a reply.

It actually took him another seven minutes, during which Wally’s constant shifting on the periphery of his vision ceased to be annoying and simply faded into the background. It was actually kind of nice, having somebody else there, not having to say anything but just being present.

Although, maybe Wally _was_ talking to himself right now. He did that sometimes. Still, Piper couldn’t hear him at the moment, so it came to the same thing.

Finally, he’d completed the adjustments to his satisfaction and closed the casing of his hearing aids. He sat back, slipping the devices into his ears, and then winced and quickly adjusted their sensitivity. There. That was better.

He turned to give Wally his full attention and found him entirely occupied with feeding chunks of something soft and lumpy to Geraldine and Patrice, giggling as the rats licked at his fingers. Geoffrey, Maurice, and Adeline seemed to have taken their morsels to go, and were now crouched at intervals on the floor, eyeing one another warily as they ate.

“You’re going to spoil them, you know,” Piper said, as though he didn’t regularly share his own meals with his rats, and sometimes bring home nice chocolates just for them.

Wally looked up and grinned. “I’m their uncle. It’s my job to spoil them.”

Piper could feel his eyebrow climbing again. “Uncle, huh? When did this happen?”

“Well, it’s either that or I’m their other dad and you got custody in the divorce,” Wally said with a shrug. “But then I’d have to pay child support, so… I think I like uncle better.”

“Cheapskate.” In spite of himself Piper smiled. He’d been in the middle of a pretty good funk before Wally showed up, but he could already feel it fading away in the face of his friend’s ridiculous, insistent cheeriness.

He sat back with a sigh and his back cracked all the way down.

Wally let out a low whistle. “Man, how long have you been working in here?”

Piper considered this for a moment, then gave up. The exact number wasn’t important anyway. “Long enough,” he said, standing with another series of pops and creaking joints. God, he wasn’t nearly old enough for this, was he?

Wally was watching him with obvious – and unnecessary – concern, so Piper plastered a smile across his face and nodded down at his furry companions. All five of them were crowded around Wally now, sniffing eagerly at his fingers and seeking any stray crumbs. Piper felt his smile turn to something more genuine.

“What’s that you’re feeding them, anyway?”

“Banana bread,” said Wally, still eyeing him closely. “ _Allegedly._ ”

“Huh,” said Piper. “Didn’t think I’d see the day when _you_ willingly shared banana bread.”

“Ha ha,” said Wally with a scowl that was really still a smile. “Anyway, I said it’s _allegedly_ banana bread. Dick’s been trying to bake again. I _told_ him that using too much sugar would make it taste like the back end of a playground sand pit, but did he listen?”

“So you’re feeding my rats inferior banana bread?” Piper asked, the outrage only half feigned.

“Eh, they like it,” Wally said carelessly. “And it’s better than letting it go to waste. Although…” his smile turned sly. “I’ve got some more here. You can try it if you want?”

Piper grimaced. “No thanks.” He’d lived through one encounter with Nightwing’s attempts at baking. He wasn’t keen to try his luck again. “Anyway, I thought you had something to ask me?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Wally. He was obviously nervous about something, but it didn’t seem to be the kind of nervous that indicated the world was facing certain doom within the next week, so Piper decided to let it play out. “I was just gonna ask you if –” His eyes danced around the room, looking anywhere but at Piper. Then he cut himself off abruptly with an incredulous huff of breath. “Seriously, Piper, when was the last time you left this room? No offense, man, but uh…”

There went his eyebrow again. At this rate, it was in danger of becoming permanently stuck at his hairline. “Really? That’s what you came by to ask me?”

“Well, not originally,” Wally said with a scoff. “But clearly it’s the question that needs to be asked. Also, a follow up question: when was the last time you ate something?”

Piper sighed, deciding to humor him, if only because he knew from experience that would be the fastest way to end this line of conversation. Wally liked to take care of people. Piper didn’t always like to be cared for, but he was honest enough to admit that sometimes he needed it.

“I had a bowl of cereal this morning,” he said with a slight eyeroll. “And don’t give me that look, that was only seven hours ago. Not everyone has your metabolism.”

Wally ignored this truism in favor of taking Piper firmly by the arm and beginning to all but drag him toward the door. “Okay, that’s it, you’re coming with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To _dinner_ , man,” said Wally, still tugging Piper along. “Linda’s making bulgogi and I’m actually willing to share it with you, so you _can’t_ say no.”

He actually kind of had a point there. The Park family bulgogi recipe was a closely guarded secret that Wally had been trying to learn for years without success. Piper wouldn’t go so far as to say it was the entire reason Wally was marrying Linda, but it was definitely part of the reason.

Still, it wouldn’t do to give in too easily.

He dug in his heels and watched in amusement as Wally skidded to a graceless halt in front of him. “I’ll come,” he said, grinning at the naked look of frustration on his friend’s face. “But on one condition.”

Wally huffed impatiently. “Yes, okay, you can bring your babies, but if the landlord shows up unexpectedly again _you’re_ going to be doing the explaining this time.”

“Fine,” said Piper, still grinning as he grabbed his flute on the way out the door. A trill of music, and then the rats followed.

*

“Honey, I’m home!” Wally called out in his best imitation of a sitcom dad.

Piper knew it was meant to be an impression of a sitcom dad, because Wally had told him as much once. Piper hadn’t had the heart to tell him his “sitcom dad” was virtually indistinguishable from his Superman. Which was kind of unfair to Superman, really.

“I hope you brought Piper!” Linda called from the kitchen.

Piper blinked in surprise, and Wally chuckled softly. “I told you, man. She always knows,” he said in a low voice, before adding, much louder, “Yeah, I brought him.”

Linda stepped out of the kitchen, grinning and ignoring Wally completely in favor of nearly tackling Piper in a hug. “It’s so good to see you, Mr. Best Man,” she said, pulling back with a laugh.

Piper blinked. Wally groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead.

“Best man?” Piper asked, glancing between the two.

Linda’s eyes widened, and she turned on Wally with a huff of amused frustration. “You still haven’t asked him?”

“Hey, I was getting to it,” Wally muttered. “Was all set to ask, too, but he was just sitting there cooped up in his workroom like…” Wally’s hands flailed in the air, searching for the perfect description. “Like he’d been taking brooding lessons from Batman or something. It was awful. I had to get him out of there.”

“Brooding like Batman, huh? That _does_ sound serious,” said Linda, peering up at Piper with teasing but genuine concern. “We should have had you over sooner.”

Piper rolled his eyes. “I was here just last week, Linda.” He turned on Wally and raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “So, are you actually going to ask me to be your best man, or are we all just going to pretend that already happened and I said yes?”

He’d been expecting a huffy response, and so was caught entirely off-guard and defenseless when he was met instead with Wally’s infamous puppy eyes.

It was pretty unfair, Piper had thought more than once, that a guy who was six feet tall and regularly beat on supervillains could still pull off the perfect picture of childlike innocence. Really unfair, actually, because Wally damn well knew he could pull it off.

“You will though, right?” said Wally. “I mean, you wouldn’t be the only best man, ‘cause I already asked Dick and he said yes, but I really want both of my best friends there, so you’ll do it, right?”

Well damn. It was pretty much impossible to say no to that. Not that he’d been planning to anyway.

With a sigh, Piper accepted the inevitable. “Yes, yes, fine, I’ll be your best man. Now can we eat already? That bulgogi smells amazing.”

Linda beamed at the compliment, while Wally pouted and muttered, “Hey, that’s my line!”

They had dinner around the coffee table, with a plate set on the floor for the rats. Linda and Piper went back for seconds, and Wally went back for elevenths. It was good. Comfortable.

When they’d finished, Wally washed all the dishes in about half a second and then sprawled himself across the couch, his head in Linda’s lap and his feet on Piper’s, eyes closed and a contented little smile on his face. Piper caught Linda’s eye, and she shot him a fond, amused smirk.

He still thought Wally was drastically overstating the case, saying he’d taken to brooding like Batman. But maybe Linda was right, too, Piper thought with a smile. He really should come over more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dick's attempts at baking banana bread brought to you by [this post on tumblr](https://fialleril.tumblr.com/post/185372700266/overheard-in-the-parking-garage).
> 
> Pretty sure that the rats' names for the three characters in this chapter would be Music Dad, Food Dad, and Mom Who Gives Really Good Scritches.
> 
> Between this and the last chapter, you may be thinking that Wally's idea of friendship is "kidnap my pals and make sure they eat," and if you're thinking that, you would not be wrong.
> 
> Also, I know Wally and Linda call him both "Piper" and "Hartley" in the comics, but I've always kind of liked the idea that he prefers the name he chose for himself, so he's just Piper here.


	6. Catching Bad Guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Linda is up to something, Bart gets pizza, and Wally baits a Bat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's basically nothing wedding related in this chapter. It's instead brought to you by my realization that this fic is literally the only fic on AO3 in the Bart & Linda tag, so it may as well earn that tag.
> 
> Also, Wally's got some pretty strong JLU influence in this chapter. I have zero regrets. Bat baiting is so much fun.

A yelp of surprise from the studio just down the hall was all the warning Linda had before a gust of wind blew through the bullpen and stopped with a rush of backdraft just beside her cubicle. She managed to grab her coffee before it could spill, but there was no stopping the papers that scattered across her desk, the floor, and even the tops of the cubicle dividers around her.

“Hey!” shouted Dan from the cubicle to her left, and Linda sighed.

“Wally. What are you –”

“Why do you have so many papers, huh?” asked a voice that was definitely not Wally. “I thought you were a TV reporter. Or is it ‘cause of all that legal stuff Max was telling me about? Is that why you have so much paperwork? Or is it secret government stuff, like bank records and taxes and stuff like that? Ooh, cool, are you catching bad guys, Linda? Can I help? I bet I can get them to confess! Max says I could probably make _anybody_ cave in under an hour.”

Linda bit back a laugh at that. Max probably _had_ said that, but she doubted he’d meant it as something for Bart to be preening about.

“Impulse,” she said, turning slowly in her swivel chair just to be certain her face was composed by the time he could see it. “Aren’t you supposed to be with Max right now?”

Bart blinked at her through the yellowed lenses of his cowl, then gave a careless shrug. She could tell it was genuinely careless, because he did it at superspeed and sent her paperwork scattering once again. A few sheets fell over the side of the cubicle, and Dan’s voice growled out, “Linda…”

“Sorry,” she called cheerfully over the divider, her eyes never leaving Bart. She was met only with incoherent grumbling from Dan, which she judiciously ignored.

“Well?” she asked her visitor, raising one eyebrow just so in that way that always made speedsters start babbling. She’d even used it successfully against Max once. Bart didn’t stand a chance.

Not that he even tried to put up a fight. He’d started answering before the word was even half out of her mouth.

“Max is being a boring old geezer today,” he said with a huff. “He’s just sitting on his porch sipping iced tea. I didn’t think anybody actually _did_ that.” He sounded absolutely scandalized, and Linda hid another smile. “Anyway, he told me to go on a run to blow off some steam, so I did, but everything’s weirdly quiet today, no bank robberies or supervillain takeovers or anything. So I went looking for Wally but he’s at work and his work is even _more_ boring than Max’s porch and –”

Linda snickered. “I’m sure he’ll be very happy to hear that.”

“Yeah, whatever,” said Bart, clearly on a roll and not about to let any consideration stop him. “He’s just moving little bits around inside engines or whatever, and he can’t even do it fast ‘cause he says it’s _delicate_ , so that makes it even _more_ boring, plus he’s all covered in oil and gunk and –”

Linda hummed. “I don’t know,” she said. “That sounds pretty interesting to me.”

Bart actually stopped for breath at that, looking at her in much the same way he’d looked at the sentient slime that tried to take over the world last month. Disgusted, but curious in spite of himself. “You’re weird,” he said.

Linda only grinned. “I must be, if I’m marrying your cousin.”

“Huh,” said Bart with another paper-shuffling shrug. After a second’s consideration, he evidently decided that this did, indeed, explain everything, because he carried merrily on. “Anyway, Max is boring, Wally’s boring, Jesse’s in boring meetings all day, I didn’t actually check with Jay but I’m sure he’s boring too, old people are boring and I’m _bored_. So I came here.” He shot her a winning smile. “To help you catch bad guys!”

“Uh huh,” said Linda. “And what makes you think I’m in the business of catching bad guys?”

Bart was actually silent for just a moment. He seemed to be trying to work out whether or not that was a trick question.

“Um, ‘cause that’s what you do,” he said with a roll of his eyes that made it clear he was humoring her. “You find out the truth that politicians and rich people and other bad guys don’t want anybody to know about, and then you tell everybody on the news, and then they have to resign and sometimes they even get arrested, and Wally says you’re the real hero ‘cause all we can do is stop supervillains but you can investigate the governor and force him to resign and that’s gonna probably help out a lot more people in the long run than just stopping Captain Cold from robbing a bank. Only I’m not supposed to ever tell you he said any of that because then you’ll make fun of him and… Oh.”

Linda’s grin was threatening to split her face. “Oh is right,” she laughed. “He really said all that?”

Bart whistled and looked away. “Um, no. Nope. Wally definitely never said any of that. I made it all up. Just now.”

“Uh huh,” said Linda.

“I make things up a lot!” said Bart. He sounded decidedly proud of this fact. “I’m very creative, you know. Max says so.”

“I bet he does,” said Linda. She was still smirking.

Bart sagged. “You’re gonna make fun of him, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” said Linda. “Yes I am. But don’t worry. I won’t let him take it out on you.”

“Oh,” said Bart. “Well. That’s okay then.” He shot forward suddenly, effectively blocking her view of her screen and any hope of returning to her e-mail. Which, to be fair, wasn’t a terrible loss today. “So who are you bringing down today? Is it that senator? I don’t remember his name but Piper says he’s a jerk so is he the one you’re after? Or is it the new governor? Oooh, or maybe –”

Linda cut him off with a laugh before he could plan out her journalistic takedown of every elected official in Kansas and Missouri. “Sorry to disappoint, Impulse, but right now I’m prepping a story on the fire department benefit dinner.”

Bart certainly did look disappointed. “Oh,” he said.

In spite of herself, Linda couldn’t just let it go. She didn’t want to see his illusions shatter. It was a rare enough thing, she figured, for a vigilante to really appreciate the work that journalists did, and here she had a superhero who seemed to genuinely believe that what she did was heroic. Two superheroes, actually, and if Wally thought he was going to get away without telling her that to her face he was very wrong.

But right now she had Bart, bored and looking for some way to be helpful, and he’d apparently decided that journalism was a good way to save the world. Of course she wanted to encourage that.

“There is something I could use your help with, though, if you’re offering,” she said, casting him a sly glance that made him instantly perk up.

“What is it, huh?” he asked, beaming, ready to run at the slightest hint of an objective.

Linda also couldn’t help but notice that there was a distinct silence on the other side of her cubicle.

“Sorry I can’t give you any corruption-busting work today, Impulse,” she said, voice pitched to carry. “It’s all confidential.” And that was true. While a speedster’s eye probably _would_ be very helpful in scanning through the hundreds of campaign finance documents that awaited her, he’d still have to understand what he was looking for. Bart was a smart kid, sometimes astonishingly so, but a certified accountant he was not, and he needed a job that was going to let him move. Not to mention one that Dan wouldn’t pounce all over…

“Ha!” said Bart, interrupting her musing. “I _knew_ you were working on catching bad guys!”

“No comment,” said Linda with a wink. “Now, think you can run this over to Gotham for me?”

His eyes rounded, nearly filling the circumference of his goggles. Linda felt her chair begin to shake minutely as he vibrated in place. “Gotham? But what about –”

“I think he’ll make an exception in this case,” she said, waving the envelope in her hand to bring Bart’s attention back from the visions of pizza that were no doubt dancing through his head. Linda was no fool. She knew how much he’d been wanting to try that frog leg pizza. “If we can pull this story together, he might even send us a thank you note.” She cast him a conspiratorial grin. “Maybe even a fruit basket.”

Fruit baskets were how rich people said thank you when they _really_ meant it. At least, that was the standing joke between the original members of the Titans. Linda had no idea how the joke had gotten started, though Wally had tried to explain it to her more than once. He never made it more than halfway through the explanation without cracking up, though.

Bart either got the joke through some mystical Speed Force bond, or else he didn’t realize it was a joke at all, and was genuinely enthusiastic about the prospect of receiving a fruit basket from Batman. It was impossible to tell from the way he was grinning.

“Sweet,” he said, snatching the envelope from her hand.

“Impulse!” she called, just before he disappeared. He skidded to a halt, drawing another growl of irritation from Dan, and cast her an impatient glance. Linda only raised her eyebrow again. “Don’t you want to know where you’re taking that?”

“Oh yeah,” Bart said, just a little sheepishly.

Linda laughed. “Take it to Vicki Vale at the _Gazette_. Nobody else, okay? You can tell her I sent you. She’s expecting it, though…probably not so fast.”

Bart scoffed. “Well, _yeah_ ,” he said, but if he was trying to hide his grin, he was doing a really terrible job of it.

Linda waved him off, laughing again, but just before he dashed away, she called out, “And Impulse? I haven’t had lunch yet. Bring me back a slice of mushroom and pineapple?”

Bart stopped and wrinkled his nose at that, but she only looked at him innocently. “Man, you’re weird,” he muttered. “You know that pineapple pizza is –”

“Illegal in the future, I know,” Linda said. She smirked at him. “It’s a good thing we’re not in the future, then. Now get going, frog leg boy!”

Bart rolled his eyes once, giggled at the nickname, saluted her lazily with the hand not holding the envelope, and then disappeared in a hurricane of flying paper.

“Damn it, Linda!” Dan bellowed across the divider.

“Sorry!” Linda called back, making no effort to sound genuinely apologetic. Dan could always tell when people were lying, anyway. “And you might want to brace yourself. He’ll be back in a minute.”

*

“Wally! Call for you!”

The voice echoed across the garage before cutting off in a startled squeak.

Wally shot his boss an apologetic grin. “Uh, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll just go take that now. Thanks Boss!”

There was a rustle of wind and then the garage was quiet for a moment before the regular business of clanking, swearing, and occasional laughter resumed.

*

“West here,” said Wally, snatching up the phone and cradling it between his neck and shoulder. He was still dressed in his coveralls, mainly because he wasn’t actually sure which kind of call this was.

“Flash,” growled an unmistakable voice on the other end of the line. “Care to tell me what your sidekick was doing in my city?”

Wally grinned to himself, leaning back against the counter and shooting Meryl a wink. “Well hey Bats, good to hear from you too. Is this a social call?”

“Flash,” said Batman, in the same tone that could make half the criminals of Gotham tremble in their socks. “I asked you a question.”

“Sure, sure,” said Wally, waving a careless hand. Bruce couldn’t see that, of course, but he’d know all the same, and Wally knew it would aggravate him. “And I’d love to answer, I really would, but I’m gonna need you to clear some things up for me first.”

He left it hanging there. Batman was silent, too. It was an old game between them, seeing who could outlast the other, even if Bruce would never admit that it _was_ a game. This time, though, Wally had a distinct advantage. Bruce clearly wanted some kind of information from him, while Wally could pretty happily drag this out all day. Very happily, actually. It gave him a break from the absolute mess Officer Martin had made of his patrol car, after all.

The silence stretched. Wally glanced across the counter at Meryl and rolled his eyes. She laughed silently and without a word passed her Sudoku puzzle across to him. She was pretty well stuck, and Wally could see why. This was a hard one. Huh.

Maybe a five? No, that would…

“Impulse,” Batman’s voice snapped finally, and Wally almost jumped. He’d nearly forgotten that he even had Bats on the line there for a bit.

“What about him?” Wally asked, grinning unrepentantly. He couldn’t hear Bruce sigh, of course – Bats would never do something so obvious. But he was absolutely sure there’d been a sigh there anyway. _And_ Bats had cracked first. Wally marked down two points for himself in his ongoing mental tally. He only needed to score one more and they’d be tied again.

“What was Impulse doing in Gotham a few minutes ago?”

Wally blinked. Huh. Oh, well. When in doubt, the truth was always the best policy. “I have no idea,” he said. “He’s not actually my sidekick, you know. Sometimes we work together, but he’s his own hero.” And, okay, maybe he was playing that up just a little bit, but come on. He’d spent literal _years_ listening to Dick and Roy complain about their mentors. And, fine, maybe he’d done a little complaining himself every now and then. So he’d earned the right to rub it in a little.

“You didn’t send him here?” Batman demanded, sidestepping the entire issue pretty neatly. But it was still an obvious sidestep, so score another one for Wally. Tie!

“Sure didn’t,” he said cheerfully. “Listen, Bats, is this important? Only I’m kind of on the clock right now, and I’m pretty sure the only reason I’m talking to you now is that my boss assumed this was some kind of serious world saving business, you know?”

There was another growl and then a click. Wally blinked, then handed the phone back to Meryl with a beaming smile.

“He hung up on me!” he crowed. “Batman hung up on me!” Man, this was great. He was actually a point ahead!

“Congratulations,” Meryl said drily. “So, about my puzzle?”

Wally handed it back to her with another grin. “Sorry, Meryl, but I gotta get back to the garage. Let’s just say you stumped me this time, huh?”

He was gone before she could answer.

*

Linda had just managed to collect all of her scattered papers and place them under the paperweight Iris gave her last Christmas (she’d promised it would come in very useful and she really hadn’t been kidding) when Bart reappeared with another gust of wind and the smell of fresh pizza.

There was a huff of disgust from the other side of her cubicle, and then Dan snapped, “I’m going for lunch.” His footsteps stomped pointedly away. Linda waited until she was certain he was far enough away to release her laughter.

“Here’s your gross pizza,” Bart said, handing her a takeout box before zipping over to study the pictures on her desk, though he’d seen them all before.

“Thanks,” said Linda, practically ripping into the box. Mmm, pineapple goodness. “So, how were the frog legs?”

“Weird,” said Bart. He appeared to consider this further, then added, “ _Really_ weird.” His tone made it clear that this was a positive assessment.

“Should have put some pineapple on them.”

He made a face of absolute disgust. “Eww! Why would you even say that?”

Linda just grinned and turned back to her pizza. He’d brought her seven slices. She was pretty hungry, but she didn’t quite have a speedster’s appetite. Oh well. She’d have leftovers for tomorrow.

“So,” said Bart at length. He was perched next to her printer now, kicking his legs so fast she could only see a blur. “Are you gonna tell me what bad guys I helped you bust?”

Linda took a generous bite of pizza and pretended to consider it. Bart watched her eagerly. He had a pretty impressive set of puppy eyes, but she’d been dealing with Wally for years and unfortunately for Bart she was now immune.

Finally she swallowed the last of her third slice of pizza and shot him a pitiless grin. “Nope,” she said. “You’ll find out when we break the story.” He looked absolutely outraged, and Linda laughed. “It’ll give you a reason to watch the news.”

“Lindaaa,” Bart whined, but he was mercifully cut off by another gust of wind and then Wally’s voice right beside her.

“Ooh, is that pizza?”

Linda sighed fondly and wordlessly handed him her remaining four slices.

“Hey, pineapple! Nice!” He leaned forward and pecked her on the cheek.

Bart groaned in disgust. “Gross,” he muttered.

“Not that I don’t enjoy sharing my lunch,” Linda said drily, “but what are you doing here, Wally? I thought you had a big project today?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Wally groaned, tossing the empty pizza box in her trash can. “I’m telling you, Martin should never be allowed to drive a patrol car again. The man’s an absolute menace.” He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Anyway, I’m taking my fifteen. And I wanted to see you.” He shot her a winning smile.

“You’re sweet,” said Linda. “Now what’s the other reason?”

He looked a little crestfallen that she’d seen through him so easily, but at least he had the sense not to deny it. “Well,” he said. “I was also looking for Impulse. Had a hunch he might be here.”

Bart perked up at this. “Oooh, what is it? Do we have a mission, Flash?”

Wally leaned back against the wall of her cubicle and raised an eyebrow. “How about you tell me, huh, kiddo? You can start by telling me why Batman just called me at work.”

Bart’s face did a quick and very amusing dance, caught somewhere between unrepentant glee and genuine terror. Linda didn’t bother trying to hide her own grin.

“I mean, I’m not really complaining,” Wally said. “Got me away from Martin’s mess for a while, plus I think I’m actually a point ahead of Bats right now, so maybe I’ll even thank you. If you tell me what you were up to.”

Bart only shrugged. “I don’t know, because Linda won’t tell me, either.”

Wally caught her eye over Bart’s head, and a wordless communication followed. A raised eyebrow. Yes, she was still tracking Kobra, following the money. A rueful smile. Yes, he’d expected that and he wasn’t going to argue, though he wasn’t going to stop worrying, either. A softening of the eyes. Of course he wasn’t; she worried too. A tilt of his head, and a minute shake of hers. No, she hadn’t told Bart. Another questioning glance and then a nod. Yes, of course she’d bring Piper in on this, once she had more solid information to work with. A level stare, and neither was looking away first. Neither of them was going to go after Kobra without telling the other. A soft, shared smile.

“Okay,” said Wally.

Bart blinked, looking between the two of them dubiously. “Okay?” he asked.

Wally reached out lightning quick to ruffle his hair. “Okay,” he said. “Now, I’ve got to get back to work.”

“Seriously?” Bart said, gaping at him. He’d clearly been expecting Wally to pry all of Linda’s secrets from her, and this was not at all shaping up the way he’d wanted.

“Seriously,” drawled Wally, not even pretending at apology. “The boss wants this car back on the road by the end of the week and I’m pretty sure that’s actually impossible, but, hey, I gotta try right?” He bent and gave Linda a swift kiss. “See you at dinner. You too, Bart. And bring Max while you’re at it, huh? He’s been sitting on his porch all day and that can’t be healthy.”

Then there was another gust of wind and he was gone. Out of curiosity, Linda glanced at her clock and smiled to herself as the minute changed. He’d been here just under fifteen minutes. Cutting it a little close.

“Hey Linda?” said Bart.

She turned back to face him and already knew, from his grin, that she would regret asking. But she asked the question anyway. “What, Impulse?”

“I’m bored.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Max. He just wants to commune with the Speed Force in peace, but those darn kids won't stay off his porch. :(
> 
> Also, I love JLU's Flash and Substance, but my one beef is that they made Linda a Flash fangirl when it really should have been the other way around.


	7. Only in Keystone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Rogues discuss.

“It’s damn disrespectful, that’s what it is,” Digger snapped, waving the envelope in his hand wildly for emphasis. “None of the blokes in Metropolis or Gotham or any of those places have to put up with this sort of thing.”

“You saying you’d rather deal with the Batman, Boomer?” Len drawled, not bothering to look up from the table where he was sketching designs for a new cold gun. It wasn’t a freeze ray. He’d gotten really mad the last time James called it that.

“Or maybe Mr. Faster Than A Speeding Bullet?” Lisa chimed in with a smirk.

“A speeding bullet?” Digger scoffed. “Is that all? Hell, I might actually be able to work with that!”

“Well, _I_ think it’s kinda nice,” said James, humming to himself as he dangled upside down off the arm of the Rogues’ battered old sofa. There was nothing quite like a new perspective to really get the old brain rolling, after all. “Nobody’s ever invited me to a wedding before.” He beamed at them all, and wondered if it counted as a smile or a frown, since he was upside down. Ha! Rhyme! “Not even you, Len.”

Len’s eyes didn’t leave his work, but he did shrug. “Hell,” he said, “I wasn’t about to invite any of you ne’er-do-wells. I’m not a complete fool.”

“No,” James crowed, “you’re just no fun. Lucky for us, though, Flasher is.”

Len let out a growl of disgust, though James wasn’t sure if it was directed at him or at the sketch. Eh. Didn’t really matter either way. Len was always grumpy about something.

“Don’t tell me you’re actually planning on putting in an appearance at this farce, Trickster,” Digger said with a derisive laugh. He raised a languid arm and flicked a dart across the room at their Flash standee. It wasn’t the soft kind of dart, either. James snickered when the dart buried itself with a thud in the cardboard Flash’s elbow. Digger never had been much good at aiming any projectile that wasn’t a boomerang.

“Well, why not?” James asked, rolling off of the couch and bouncing to his feet, just to be sure they could all see he was indeed grinning. “I think it sounds nice. Besides, Piper’s gonna be there.”

Digger, Len, and even Roscoe all made various noises of disgust, though Lisa only offered an archaic smile.

“Well of course Piper’s going,” Digger grumbled. “The damn traitor.”

“Oh, he’s not just going,” Lisa laughed. “A little birdie told me he’s the best man.”

There was a long silence following this, as the men gaped at her and Lisa smirked back. Nobody bothered to ask how she’d come by that information. Lisa knew things. She had connections. That was just the way it was.

“Oh yeah!” James said, thrilled that for once he was in the know about something before the Captains. His grin widened as they all turned to stare at him. “Not the only best man, though. I heard there’s two of them, and I don’t think Piper likes the other one too much. Said he was a real dick.”

Lisa pouted, which meant whatever sources of information she had, they hadn’t told her that. Ha!

“Not surprising, if he’s friends with the Flash,” Digger groused. “Probably another damn cape.”

“Never know with that one,” said Len, sounding oddly contemplative. “Could as easily be some guy from the damn circus. Flash is friends with everyone.”

“Even us!” said James happily, though he quailed a bit when four pairs of eyes fixed him with disdainful glares. Even Roscoe, who hadn’t actually said anything yet.

Still, none of them were actually _denying_ it.

“Anyway,” said Digger, waving a hand as though to dismiss the entirety of the previous conversation, “what are we going to do about this? That’s what I want to know.”

“Don’t see why we have to do anything,” mumbled Roscoe, though he sounded kind of sullen about it, James thought.

“Well maybe you don’t,” Lisa sniffed. She was glaring at Roscoe and apparently trying to communicate something with the complex movements of her eyebrows. James wasn’t really sure what exactly she was trying to say, but it was pretty impressive all the same. “But I’m with James on this one. It does sound nice, having a chance to dress up and all that. _Some_ of us haven’t had a night out in ages.” Her glare somehow increased in intensity, until James thought Roscoe might be in serious danger of spontaneous combustion. Fire wasn’t usually Lisa’s style, but she looked pretty willing to make an exception right now.

Roscoe sighed, apparently resigned to his fate. “I guess a night out does sound nice,” he mumbled. “But I don’t have to bring a gift, do I?”

Lisa’s glare had softened, but she still didn’t look too happy with him. “Don’t be stingy, Roscoe,” she mumbled. “It’s not like he’s the _previous_ Flash. We can play nice sometimes. Besides, Len’s going, aren’t you Len?”

Everyone turned as one to stare at Len, who shifted uncomfortably on his feet and refused to meet anyone’s eyes.

“The wife wants to go,” he muttered to the floor.

“Oh, the wife is it?” Digger asked, something sly glinting in his eyes. “Sure you’re not just going soft, Len?”

James didn’t really see what was so wrong with that. He liked soft things, personally. Warm sheets, his favorite pink and orange sweater with the green polka dots, the surprisingly sleek fur of Piper’s rats, even the really nice soft darts that Flash had given him a couple months back, the ones he was not ever going to share with the guys because they didn’t know how to be careful with such delicate equipment.

Digger, though, clearly meant soft as an insult, and Len just as clearly took it that way. James filed this away for future reference of a tricky nature. Digger’s birthday was coming up pretty soon, after all, and there were some awfully cute little kittens in the mall pet store. James knew this, because he had to pass the pet store every time he wanted an Orange Julius, and that was pretty often, because they were delicious.

“What are you snickering about, Trickster?” Len snapped. “You got something to say?”

James blinked, returning to the situation – if not the topic – at hand. “Well,” he said with what was indisputably a grin this time, “I’m thinking I might get them a blender.” He nodded to himself, even more pleased with the idea now he’d heard it out loud. “That’s a nice gift, right? But also a little ominous. Yeah. I think a blender will be perfect.”

Everybody was staring at him now, but James didn’t let it bother him. They were probably just jealous he’d thought of such a good gift first. Now they’d all have to think of something else, and James was pretty damn sure none of them could come up with any gift as good as a blender. Ha! Take that, Captains!

“Trickster,” Digger nearly growled. “What the hell are you talking about?”

And people said _he_ didn’t pay attention. James sighed. “My present,” he said. “For the wedding. That’s what we were talking about.”

“He’s not wrong,” said Roscoe, and James giggled as the two Captains turned their glares on him. “That _is_ what we were talking about, before you two decided to revive your pissing contest.”

“Pissing –” Digger spluttered. “Hell, Top, I’d think you’d be siding with me on this one! We’re Rogues, damn it! The Flash is our sworn enemy! And these damn kookaburras are talking about what to get him for his damn wedding! Why the hell should we get him anything, unless it’s a bomb?”

“A bomb?” Lisa repeated in a mocking, sing-song tone, complete with dramatically rolling eyes. “Really, Boomer? That’s tacky even for you.”

“She’s right,” said Roscoe, earning himself the slightest of smiles from Lisa and a deepening scowl from Digger. “This isn’t Gotham, after all. We’re Rogues. We’ve got to have some standards.”

“Yeah!” chirped James. “Can’t go sinking to the Joker’s level.” He shuddered. He’d actually been mistaken for the Joker once, and that was not an experience he cared to repeat. That no talent hack had no appreciation for the genuine art of clowning.

“You’re all hopelessly soft,” grumbled Digger, looking thoroughly defeated. “Fine. I’ll go, if only to watch you wombats make damn fools of yourselves.” He crossed his arms stubbornly over his chest. “But I’m not getting a gift.”

“You’re just jealous ‘cause I thought of the best gift,” James giggled.

“You don’t have to get them anything, Digger,” said Len, glowering first at Boomerang and then at James. “And nobody’s getting them a damn blender, either. I got a plan.”

“Ooh, a plan, is it?” Lisa laughed. “Well I guess we’d all better take notes, huh? Captain Cold’s got a _plan_.”

Len ignored his sister entirely, but James didn’t miss the vein that was twitching in his forehead.

“The way I figure it, they’re gonna want a honeymoon, right?” Len demanded with something just short of a growl.

“Uh, sure,” said Roscoe with a nervous swallow. A growling Len was never a good sign.

“So,” said Len, in what James had always considered his most gravelly and ominous voice, the one he usually reserved for police negotiators, telemarketers, and the representatives of whichever ill-conceived villain team-up was recruiting this week, “here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna give them a week off.”

There was silence. James gave in to the slight tickle in the back of his throat and coughed. There was more silence. And then a little more.

Finally, Roscoe wrinkled his nose and ventured a response. “What exactly do you mean by a week off?”

“I mean a damn week off, that’s what,” Len said firmly. “No heists, no jobs, no death traps, and no tricks either, not in Keystone or Central. And no other villains horning in on our turf, either. We give Flash a nice quiet week off.”

They were all gaping at him now, looking various shades of befuddled, except for James, who was making no attempt to hide his grin. Ordinarily, he liked to be the one who inspired looks like that, but he could definitely appreciate the artistry when someone else did it well.

Digger was the first to recover. He did so with a scoff and a pointed roll of his eyes, but he still sounded a bit shaken as he said, “You’ve gone soft as my grandma’s feather pillow, Cold.”

Something sparked in Len’s eyes, more gleeful than angry. “Shows what you know, Boomer. I said we won’t pull anything for a week. Never said we won’t _plan_ anything.”

“Ooh!” crowed James. “Yeah! We gotta have something _really_ good to welcome Flasher back from his honeymoon, right?”

“Huh,” said Digger, a slow smile spreading across his face. “For once, Trickster, you might have the right idea. There’s something to be said for taking your time to plan the big one, after all.”

James beamed. “Well, I don’t know about you fellas, but I’d better start my planning now! Fifty thousand remote-operated cockroach bots aren’t gonna order themselves, you know!”

He cackled to himself at the looks of utter disgust that crossed all of their faces. Even Captain Boomerang’s. Ha! Man, sometimes messing with them was even better than messing with Flash.

He was still gonna get that blender, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, at least half the point of this chapter was making those two terrible jokes about Dick Grayson. And I'm not even sorry.
> 
> Lisa's insistence that Wally isn't like the previous Flash is a reference to very early on in Wally's run, just after he'd become the Flash, when she informed him candidly that she hated the previous Flash (Barry), but she wasn't going to hold grudges against a totally different person and she thought Wally seemed like a decent guy.


	8. A Date with Captain Crunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dick's attempts to plan a bachelor party with Piper are rapidly derailed by two Harpers, traitorous fashion, and sugary cereal he most definitely did not buy for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aware that I'm probably further muddling my timelines here, but I've also decided that I don't actually care, because Lian is wonderful and I wanted to write her in this fic.
> 
> Also, sorry if you didn't sign up for a romcom between the best men? Because that's apparently going to be a thing going forward.

The text read, _Are you available this week? We need to plan. Your city or mine?_

It was from a number he didn’t recognize, though the area code was a Kansas number. It was sent at 3:27 a.m., just as Dick was getting off patrol for the night and more than ready to crash in bed for…well, a couple of days sounded nice, honestly, but he’d have to settle for four hours. Less than that, if he dealt with this tonight.

He eyed the message and considered his options. He was pretty sure that was a Keystone number, which likely meant one of three things: Wally had either misplaced his phone or let the battery die again and had borrowed someone else’s because whatever they needed to plan couldn’t wait until a more reasonable hour, or Wally was texting him from someone else’s phone and had simply forgotten _again_ that other people needed more than an hour of sleep to function, or Piper had spent so much time around Wally that he had also forgotten that people needed sleep and couldn’t reasonably be expected to plan a bachelor party at 4:00 a.m.

Of course, there was also the outside possibility that none of those things was the case, and this was instead some elaborate supervillain trap. If so, Dick would have to admit to being impressed. Anybody who would pull something like that played a very deep game.

He was just wondering if it was worth asking Babs to trace the number – he could do it himself, of course, but Babs would have it done much faster and would likely come back with the entire life story of whoever was behind that number to boot – when he received a follow up text.

 _Uh_ , it said. _This is Piper, by the way. Probably should have opened with the fact that I’m not a supervillain. Well. Not anymore._

Dick chuckled a little to himself at that. So it was option three then.

 _Consider me appropriately reassured_ , he wrote back. _And yeah, I actually have most of my Saturday free, surprisingly. Let’s not meet at 4:00 a.m. though._

Piper replied with a blushing emoji, which was way more adorable than it had any right to be, so Dick figured he must really be sleep deprived.

 _Oh wow_ , said Piper. _I am so sorry. I keep really weird hours and I didn’t even think to check the time…_

 _Don’t worry about it_ , Dick replied, laughing again. _I know all about weird hours. So, you wanna say Saturday noon? We’ll do brunch, my treat. But maybe we should meet in Keystone? I’m assuming Wally’s your ride, and he’s mine too but it’ll be easier to ditch him for our planning purposes if we’re on his home turf._

 _Good point_ , said Piper. _And if it’s brunch you’re after, we should definitely meet at Bistro 76. It’s exactly as pretentious as the name sounds, but the food is decent and Wally’s banned from the place._

This made Dick throw his head back and laugh loud enough to disturb the neighbors. _Oh God_ , he wrote. _What did he do? Take an all-you-can-eat buffet a little too literally?_

 _Nah, he does that everywhere, and most places in this town just consider it free advertising_ , said Piper. _This place is kind of the Rogues’ unofficial brunch spot, though, so there’s an unspoken No Flash Allowed rule and Wally always respects that. Unless there’s a real emergency, but I don’t think even he would argue that snooping on our plans constitutes an emergency._

Dick chuckled again, turning that last sentence over in his mind and savoring the fact that he was chatting with someone who would actually use the phrase “constitutes an emergency” in a text. Wally, Roy, and pretty much everyone he texted with any regularity always talked in what Dick still thought of as chatspeak. Last week Kory had sent him a message reading _c u @ 8_. Even _Raven_ texted in chatspeak.

 _Sounds like the perfect place, then_ , he told Piper. _I’ll meet you there at noon?_

_It’s a plan. And there’s actually a pretty funny story behind that no Flash rule – remind me to tell you on Saturday._

_I’ll hold you to that_ , said Dick. _Now I’m gonna call it a night before I literally collapse. See you Saturday._

*

Wally sighed, glancing up and down the empty hallway and then back at Dick’s door. Which was still closed. And showed no signs of opening any time soon.

This is what he got for knocking instead of just using his key. “It’s for _emergencies_ ,” Dick was always saying, but did he ever actually open the door when Wally knocked? No. No he did not.

He glanced down at his watch. It was 11:23 a.m. Dick was not answering the door _or_ his phone. That was close enough to an emergency, right?

The apartment was still mostly dark, all the curtains drawn, but there was a light in the kitchen. The person rummaging through the cabinets definitely wasn’t Dick, though.

“Hey princess, what are you doing in here by yourself?” Wally chuckled.

Lian spun around to face him, the haphazardly stacked barstool, booster seat, and books she was balanced on wobbling dangerously beneath her. Her surprise dissolved into a delighted smile. “Uncle Wally!”  She bounced a little in her excitement, and the books began to slip.

“Woah, careful there,” Wally said, but he’d caught her before she even realized she was falling. She blinked at him from where she rested now safely in his arms, then looked down at the books scattered across the kitchen floor.

“Oh,” she said. Then she looked up at him and grinned. “You caught me.”

“Course I did,” he said with a grin. Probably he should be giving her a lecture about safety, but hey, that was her dad’s job. He was the fun uncle. “So, kiddo. What are you up to all by yourself in here, huh? Is your daddy around?”

“He’s still sleeping,” said Lian, scrunching up her nose in exactly the same way Roy did when he was annoyed. “And so is Uncle Dick.”

Wally frowned at this – sleeping in had never really been Dick’s style, and while it had once been Roy’s, that had changed since he’d become a parent.

Lian hadn’t noticed his concern, though, and she carried merrily on. “But I was hungry. So I came in here to get some breakfast, only Uncle Dick keeps all of his cereal up _really_ high so I needed to be tall, but now you’re here, Uncle Wally, so you can be tall for me!”

“Hmm,” said Wally returning his focus to the little girl in his arms. Whatever was going on with Dick and Roy would have to wait. Right now, Lian was hungry and that was definitely something he could fix.

“I think we can do better than that,” he said with a grin, hoisting her up onto his shoulders. She crowed in delight as he opened the highest cabinet above the stove – the one Dick always claimed he didn’t use because it was too much of a hassle to reach, but which really contained the secret stash of sugary cereal he would never admit to buying. “All right, princess, what looks good?”

“Captain Crunch!” Lian nearly squealed, bouncing on his shoulders and reaching for the box with eager hands.

“Good choice,” Wally said, setting the girl back on the kitchen floor, the coveted cereal held close in her arms. He rummaged through Dick’s shelves for a moment while she skipped over to the dining table, and soon they were both digging into the breakfast of champions.

“Is Captain Crunch your favorite, Uncle Wally?” Lian asked around a mouthful of cereal. Watching her, Wally could almost see his dad’s disapproving scowl. _Don’t talk with your mouth full, boy._

He grinned, and answered her around his own mouthful of sugary goodness. “Sure is. One of them anyway. You’re not gonna make me pick just one favorite, are you?”

Lian giggled. “Is it ‘cause he’s one of your baddies?” she asked.

Wally thought about this for a second. “One of my baddies?”

Lian nodded solemnly. “Uh huh,” she said. “Daddy says you’ve got lots of them. But he says it’s okay, ‘cause a lot of them are really silly, and anyway you’re fast so they can’t catch you.”

Okay, she was clearly talking about the Rogues, and this was honestly too great to pass up. “So which one is Captain Crunch, then?”

She looked down her nose at him very dubiously. Wally managed to hold in his laughter, but it was a near thing. She never looked more like Roy than when she was unimpressed. “You’re silly, Uncle Wally,” Lian pronounced at last, evidently deciding to take pity on him after subjecting him sufficiently to her withering gaze. “He’s _your_ baddie, after all.”

“Well, maybe I’m testing you,” Wally laughed.

Lian heaved a longsuffering sigh. “Silly,” she muttered. “Captain Crunch is the one who throws, um…” She frowned in thought, and then her eyes lit up. “Boomrags. He throws boomrags.”

“Boomerangs,” said Wally, grinning so wide it almost hurt. Oh man, this was great. This was _fantastic_. Captain Crunch. He was absolutely gonna use that the next time he had to stop Boomer from robbing a bank.

“Yeah,” said Lian. “Boomrags. I got it right, didn’t I, Uncle Wally? That’s Captain Crunch.”

“Yup, you’re absolutely right, princess.”

Lian nodded solemnly. Then she frowned. “How come he named himself after cereal, Uncle Wally?”

Wally actually choked on a mouthful of Boomer’s apparent namesake at that, but lucky for him, he recovered too quickly for her to notice. “You know, I’m not sure,” he managed, throat still burning a bit.

“You should ask him next time you see him,” said Lian, turning happily back to her breakfast as though this pronouncement resolved everything.

Wally grinned. “I think I will.”

“What’s going on in here?” a sleep roughened voice grumbled from the doorway.

Wally and Lian both looked up. Dick was standing there, blinking blearily and wearing a mismatched set of pajamas that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the Trickster.

Wally sniggered. “Morning, sunshine. You might wanna get dressed, unless you’re planning on making a fashion statement at brunch. Though it _is_ one of the Rogues’ hangouts, so you could probably get away with it.”

Dick blinked again. “What are you talking about?” He seemed to think deeply for a moment before adding, “Also, what are you doing here?”

“Wow, rude. I’m here solely to be your taxi service to a party I’m not even allowed to stick around for, and this is the thanks I get. That’s cold, Dick. That’s real cold.”

“What are you –” Dick’s eyes widened and then he groaned. “Oh shi– shoot, today’s Saturday.”

“Yes,” said Wally slowly. He was starting to be a little concerned. “Yes, it is.”

Dick glanced down at himself and groaned again. “Oh man, I gotta get dressed.”

Just what the hell had happened here last night?

“You do that, buddy,” Wally said, not teasing anymore. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

“Thanks,” said Dick, with a flash of a genuine smile that went a good way toward putting Wally a bit more at ease. Then he stumbled back toward his room.

Wally set about making the coffee and doing the dishes, while Lian kept up a steady stream of chatter. She was really into whales these days, and it was pretty interesting. He didn’t really think he’d known anything about narwhals before this morning, but Lian made them seem like the most fascinating subject in the world.

She’d just started to explain how a lot of people thought narwhals used their tusks to fight, only there wasn’t actually any proof of that and really scientists had no idea what they were for, but wasn’t it silly that everybody always assumed that animals liked to fight, and _she_ thought that maybe narwhals had tusks so they could poke holes in ice, and also because they looked really cool, and –

And that was when Roy stumbled in.

He looked pretty scruffy, though Wally honestly wasn’t sure if that was the result of a long night or if he was intentionally rocking the stubbly look again.

“Hi Daddy!” Lian chirped before returning to her treatise. Roy caught Wally’s eye and offered a fondly resigned grin.

“Hey princess,” Roy said, catching his daughter in a one-armed hug and distracting her momentarily from the family dynamics of narwhal pods. “Did you have breakfast yet?”

“Uh huh,” she said. “Captain Crunch. Uncle Dick keeps it up _really_ high, but Uncle Wally helped me get it.”

“Captain Crunch, huh?” said Roy. “Did you save any for me?”

Lian frowned, glancing back toward the table and then wrinkling her nose in dismay. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she mumbled.

“Not your fault, sweetheart,” Wally cut in. “That was all me. Sorry, Roy.” He grinned. “But if you’re looking for sugary cereal, Dick’s got a whole stash above the stove.”

“And he said he only had muesli,” said Roy with a smirk. “Figures. Hey, Twinkle Toes, what are you doing here anyway?”

Wally scoffed. “Man, I am really feeling the love today.”

Roy rolled his eyes over the bowl of Count Chocula he was pouring. “Yeah, yeah, great to see you and all that, and thanks for looking out for Lian, but seriously man, what are you doing here?”

“He’s my ride,” said Dick, stepping into the increasingly crowded kitchen. “I’ve got a brunch meeting in Keystone and I, uh, kinda forgot about it.” He offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Wally.”

Wally shrugged and was about to reply when Roy let out a low whistle. “Dickie’s got a date,” he said, waggling his eyebrows and smirking at Dick while pointedly eating his Count Chocula.

Dick groaned. “No, I don’t. I’m meeting Piper about Wally’s bachelor party.”

“Uh huh,” said Roy, his smirk not diminished in the least. “That’s why you’re wearing your date shirt.”

“I –” Dick blinked. “What?”

Wally gave Dick a quick once over. He was wearing grey jeans and a nice, royal blue button down, which actually, come to think of it… “No, man, he’s right. That totally is your date shirt.”

“Who are you going on a date with, Uncle Dick?” asked Lian. “Are they pretty?”

“Yeah, Dick, are they pretty?” Roy snickered.

“Lian, sweetie, I don’t have a date,” Dick said, pointedly ignoring Roy. “Your daddy’s just being silly.”

Roy, apparently deciding that two could play at that game, ignored Dick in turn. “Hey, Wally. Your friend Piper – he cute?”

“Yeah,” said Wally, watching Dick’s face closely. For a Bat, he’d always been kinda crap at hiding his emotions, and he was looking a bit shifty now. Maybe Roy was on to something. “ _And_ he’s a ginger.”

Roy snorted. “Oh, well, that settles it then. Dick’s a goner.” Dick fixed him with a glower that had elicited more than one confession in its day, but Roy only shrugged it off with the ease of long practice. “I gotta meet this guy. You’ve been holding out on me, Twinkle Toes. We’re gonna have to induct him into the Red-Headed League.”

“He’ll have to be an honorary member, though,” said Wally. “He doesn’t want to join the League. Says he’s got enough responsibilities in Keystone already.”

Roy nodded in understanding. “Fair enough, fair enough. Honorary’s fine.”

Dick was looking back and forth between them with increasing dismay. “Oh no,” he said. “Please tell me you two are kidding and that’s not a real thing.”

Wally caught Roy’s eye and mouthed, _Should we tell him?_

Roy shook his head sharply. “Sorry, Short Pants,” he said. “No information is available to non-gingers.” He winked outrageously. “First rule of the Red-Headed League and all that.”

“You know what?” said Dick with a resigned sigh. “I’m not gonna ask. I really don’t want to know.” He glanced at the clock on his microwave, which read 11:59. “Wally, we gotta go. Roy, it was great to see you, I’ll –”

“Uh uh,” said Roy. “I’m coming with you. There is absolutely no way I’m letting you plan a bachelor party without me.”

“Oh no,” Wally cut in quickly. “No, absolutely not. I do not need to be arrested the day before my wedding.”

Roy huffed. “Come on, man. I’m responsible. These days.”

Wally just looked at him. Roy looked back. He was really good at that contrite, slightly sheepish, please-give-me-another-chance look. It was kind of unfair.

“Fine,” Wally muttered at last. “But I have conditions.”

Dick snickered.

“Rude,” said Roy.

“I’m serious, man,” said Wally, though he said it with a grin. “If you wouldn’t be willing to bring Lian along to whatever it is you plan, then I’m not doing it.”

Roy gaped at him. Even Dick looked a little surprised. Lian had wandered into the living room and was playing with one of her stuffed whales, apparently bored with the adult chatter, but she looked up in curiosity at the sound of her name.

“Also,” said Wally, because he was on a roll, “if you two are gonna go and have brunch at the one place in Keystone I can’t go, then I’m taking Lian for the day.”

“What?” spluttered Roy. “What are you –”

Lian dashed past her father with a speed almost worthy of Wally himself. “Where are we going, Uncle Wally?” she asked eagerly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Well,” said Wally, grinning at Roy. “You’ve got a choice, sweetheart. You can go to brunch with these boring old farts, _or_ you can come with me and Aunt Linda to see the new aquarium in Central.”

“Okay, that’s just not fair,” Roy muttered.

“What’s an acc – an acer –” Lian frowned, her brow furrowed in concentration. “What’s an aquiam, Uncle Wally?”

“An aquarium, sweetheart,” said Roy, having apparently accepted his fate. “It’s a place where they have lots of big tanks full of tropical fish.”

“And there are sharks and sea turtles and manta rays, too,” said Wally. “I think they even have sea horses.”

Lian was bouncing rapidly on her feet now. “Do they have whales, Uncle Wally?”

“Well…not any of the really big ones, because they wouldn’t fit. But I think they do have a pair of those, um, you know the white whales?”

“Boogas!” Lian crowed in delight.

Wally glanced at Roy, who rolled his eyes good-naturedly and mouthed, “Belugas.”

“Right,” said Wally. “Belugas. Yeah. They have a couple of those.”

“Boogas are _almost_ as cool as narwhales,” said Lian with great authority. “They live near icebergs and they’re always smiling.” She turned to her father and beamed up at him. “Can I go, Daddy, please please _please_?”

“All right, princess,” Roy said, ruffling her hair. “You can go. You’d probably have been bored with me and Uncle Dick, anyway.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” she gushed, hugging Roy’s leg and then just as quickly releasing him to dash back to Wally. “Okay, let’s go!”

Wally laughed. “Okay, okay, but there’s no way I’m carrying all three of you at once.” He turned to Dick. “You first, buddy, since you’re the one Piper’s actually expecting. Then I’ll get Lian, and the uninvited guest gets dropped off last.”

“Harsh, man,” said Roy with a smirk.

“You wanna use me as your personal Uber service, you can deal with it,” Wally said with a smirk of his own. “Come on, Pixie Boots, let’s go.”

Dick raised a disdainful eyebrow and gestured toward the door. “Uh uh. Everybody out first. I don’t need skid marks on my carpet _again_.”

“Spoilsport,” Wally laughed, already on his way out the door.

Of course they couldn’t very well take off from the sidewalk, either, because Dick would make all sorts of noise to the effect of oh _no_ , his secret identity. So instead they were all assembled in an alleyway, with Dick looking skittishly from side to side as if one of his villains were likely to appear at any moment and shout something suitably dramatic, like, “Ah ha! Nightwing! At last your true identity is revealed!” Roy was watching Dick like this was the best entertainment he’d had all week. And Lian was squirming impatiently, visions of whales dancing through her head.

“Dick,” said Wally, “if you don’t get on my back right now, I’m going to pick you up and carry you bridal style.”

Roy sniggered.

“Fine,” said Dick. He started to smooth down his shirt, caught them looking, and dropped his hands pointedly to his sides. “Let’s go.”

He hopped up piggyback and then they were off.

“Hey Wally?”

“Hmm?”

“Uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but…it doesn’t really feel like we’re breaking the sound barrier right now?”

“That’s because we’re not,” said Wally, grinning to himself since Dick couldn’t see him at the moment.

“Ah,” said Dick. “And…why is that, exactly? Thought you were in a rush?”

“Nah,” Wally said easily. “You’re the one who’s late, not me. Besides, I wanna talk to you.”

“I was afraid that was it,” Dick quipped.

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, is everything okay with Roy? You both seemed pretty out of it today, not to mention it’s not really like you to sleep ‘til noon and forget an appointment.”

“We’re fine, Wally.” Dick must have sensed his skepticism, because he quickly added, “Seriously. He was just feeling a little blue, so he came over, and we kinda stayed up all night talking. Nothing to worry about, I promise.”

“Well okay,” said Wally. “If you say so.” He was going for neutral, but he was afraid he came off a little bit hurt. Which he wasn’t. At all. Dick and Roy were totally allowed to hang out without telling him.

Dick laughed in his ear, the jerk. “Relax, man. It’s just that we’re both kind of depressingly single at the moment, and no offense, but we didn’t really wanna bemoan that fact with the guy who’s blissfully happy about getting married in a couple months.”

“Oh,” said Wally. Well. That was pretty fair, actually. “Uh. Should I be apologizing?”

“No, you dolt,” Dick laughed again. “Just get me to brunch so I can plan your very responsible and child-friendly bachelor party.”

Wally grinned, put on a burst of speed, and stopped a fraction of a second later.

“You’re late,” said Piper, tapping his wrist despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing a watch.

“Not me,” said Wally with a shrug, hooking a thumb in Dick’s direction. “It’s all this guy.”

“Yeah, sorry, I kind of got my schedule mixed up,” Dick said, offering a sheepish grin in Piper’s direction.

Piper, for his part, dropped the scolding act and shot Dick a genuine smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he said, one hand rubbing a bit self-consciously at the back of his neck.

Wally’s eyes narrowed and he glanced between the two of them, rapidly enough that they wouldn’t notice. Oh man. Oh man, this was _great_. They were both just kind of standing there, smiling a little awkwardly, and Roy was totally right about Dick wearing his date shirt, and Piper was wearing _his_ date shirt, too, and really it was everything Wally could do to keep from cackling with unholy glee. This was _amazing_.

“Hey, so, I’m just gonna burn back and get Lian and then Roy, catch you guys in a second,” he said, a little too casually, but neither of them noticed.

Yup, that was definitely his cue to go.

*

Dick was going to kill Roy. Really he was. And then, just for good measure, he was going to kill Wally too.

Because, yeah, this _was_ his date shirt. But he hadn’t really thought about that, not consciously, and he’d been perfectly happy not thinking about it, but now they’d pointed it out and he couldn’t exactly deny that they were right, not to himself anyway.

So now he’d noticed, and he was thinking about it, and unfortunately this meant that he was doomed to go on noticing things, like the fact that Piper was wearing a very nice green shirt that made his eyes look almost luminous and also he had a ponytail now. When did that happen? And why the hell hadn’t Wally warned him?

On second thought, maybe he’d kill Wally first.

“Uh, is this a bad time?” Piper asked, beginning to frown. “If something’s come up we can reschedule. I know how things are with –”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Dick cut in quickly. “Sorry. I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night. I hope this place has good coffee.”

Piper grinned. “The best in town, according to my parents. Shall we?” He gestured toward the restaurant’s entrance, but before Dick could reply there was another sharp gust of wind and Wally reappeared, Lian perched on his shoulders and giggling madly.

“Uncle Dick!” she called, wobbling a bit unsteadily on her feet as Wally set her down. “We went _so_ fast. Everything was blurry and we raced a train and I thought we crossed a lake but Uncle Wally said it was actually an _ocean_ and we were just going so fast that it seemed small!”

“An ocean?” asked Dick, arching an eyebrow. “Between here and the east coast?”

Wally grinned, completely shameless. “We took the scenic route.”

“We didn’t see any whales, though, ‘cause we were going too fast,” Lian said, a little mournfully. “But we had to go fast or else we’d fall in, and then Uncle Garth would have to come rescue us, which might have been cool but it probably would have made us late, and I wanna go to the aquiam, so we couldn’t be late. Besides, going fast is fun.”

She said all of this in a single breath and didn’t even appear winded when she’d finished, though Dick was feeling a little breathless himself just listening to her.

“It sure is,” said Wally, beaming at Lian. “Okay, princess, you stay here with Uncle Dick and Piper, and I’ll go get your dad. Back in a second!”

He disappeared again. Lian turned her curious gaze on Piper. She looked him up and down very seriously, and finally nodded in seeming approval. A broad smile split her face. “Hi!” she said. “I’m Lian. Are you Uncle Dick’s date?”

Dick groaned. Murder was too good for Roy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, Dick sure has a lot of secret stashes of junk food, huh? He wouldn't get teased about them nearly as much if he didn't try to hide them.
> 
> This chapter is already significantly longer than the others, so Lian's adventures at the aquarium, plus the story of how Wally got himself banned from Bistro 76, and maybe even some actual bachelor party planning, will have to wait for the next chapter.


	9. A Whale of a Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are nefarious plans, scandals, autographs, and of course whales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I must have rewritten this chapter about six times, trying to get the right balance in the story of how Wally got banned from Bistro 76. The boy has the best of intentions but he doesn't always think things through...
> 
> This chapter deals a fair bit with homophobia (in particular Piper's parents' homophobia), and there's a mention of sex.
> 
> Also, this is ridiculously long, even after I decided to break this bit off from the last chapter. So the title is not only a shamelessly painful pun, but also a reference to the unwieldy length of this chapter I guess!
> 
> Finally, a big thank you to [jerseydevious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jerseydevious/pseuds/jerseydevious%22) for talking me through That Scene.

“Afternoon, Hartley,” the hostess said with a warm smile. “Got some new friends today?”

Dick tensed internally, but Piper still looked entirely at ease, and Roy was already perusing a menu, so the comment was probably as innocent as it appeared. He didn’t fully relax until he saw Piper’s warm smile, though.

“Something like that,” Piper said, laughing as the woman caught him in a brief but enthusiastic hug. “Good to see you, too, Carla. Sorry it’s been so long. Things have been – well.”

“It’s always some excuse with you,” Carla tutted fondly. “You want the usual booth today, hon?”

“Yes, please. We’ve got nefarious plans to discuss, I’m afraid.”

“You can plan whatever you like,” said Carla with a sly tilt to her smile. “Just don’t go doing anything indecent in that booth, you hear?”

Dick frowned at her implication, but to his surprise Piper let out a full-throated laugh.

“I’ll be very discreet,” he said, dropping a wink as he slipped into the booth. Bemused, Dick slid into the center seat without a word, and Roy sprawled across the booth’s other side.

“I’ll send Jenna to take care of you, but you stop and see me before you leave, okay, honey?” Carla said to Piper. “We’ll send something home for our boy.” Then she swept away before Piper could respond with more than a nod.

“Okay,” said Roy the minute she was out of earshot. “I have so many questions. But let’s start with the most important: the hell is this menu?”

He waved the offending document for emphasis. It was a single sheet of paper, printed on only one side, and it contained only seven choices, each of which had a paragraph long description.

“Yeah, I’d like the eggs benedict, with a side order of the farmer’s entire life story, please,” Roy said in a snooty tone that reminded Dick of more than a few of the people who came to Bruce’s parties. And Ollie, if he was being completely honest.

Piper grinned. “I did warn Dick this place was pretentious.”

“And yet the staff knows you by name and you have a regular booth here,” said Dick with a grin of his own. “You didn’t mention that part.”

“Oh, it’s not my booth. It’s my parents’.” Something in Piper’s smile sharpened. “Used to be, anyway.”

Dick leaned forward eagerly. “Does this have something to do with Wally being banned from this place?”

“Woah, woah, hold up,” said Roy. “ _Wally’s_ banned from a restaurant? In _Keystone_? This I gotta hear.”

“Sure is,” said Piper with a smirk. “For indecent behavior.”

“ _No_ ,” breathed Roy with unbridled glee.

“Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen,” said a cheerful voice while doing just that.

Piper paused mid-breath to smile up at the newcomer. “Hey, Jenna,” he said. “I’ll have the usual, thanks.”

Dick raised a pointed eyebrow at him and mouthed, “Not a regular, huh?” Piper only shrugged unrepentantly.

Dick laughed and turned back to Jenna. “Waffles, please.” Technically, the listing on the menu read “flax-seed and wild-harvested Maine blueberry waffles with warm caramelized peach compote and fresh housemade Chantilly cream,” but come on. That was a bigger mouthful than the actual waffles. It did sound pretty delicious, though.

Jenna nodded and turned to Roy, who fixed her with a perfectly serious expression (the one Dick knew damn well was his “society Ollie” impression) and said, “I’d like the chicken farmer’s entire life story, please. But only if it’s free range.”

Jenna giggled. “Free range, organic, ethically sourced, _and_ GMO-free,” she said with a wink.

“Well that’s a relief,” said Roy. “Also, can I get some coffee?” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Not any of the fancy drinks on this menu, though. I mean the real stuff. Just straight black coffee. You have that here, right?”

Jenna made a show of looking furtively around the restaurant before replying in a hushed tone. “I can get that for you, but you gotta keep it quiet, understand? You’ll ruin our rep.”

“Can’t have that,” said Roy. “My lips are sealed.”

Dick ordered a real coffee, too, and Piper looked between them both before shamelessly requesting a German chocolate latte with extra whip.

Jenna left to put in their orders. Dick and Roy turned on Piper the instant she was gone. “Okay spill.”

“Okay, okay,” Piper laughed, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “Okay, before we can get to Wally’s scandalous part in this story, there’s a few things you need to know.”

“Oh boy,” said Roy. “I love flashback scenes.”

Dick rolled his eyes, while Piper judiciously ignored this interruption.

“I came out to my parents when I was eighteen, and let’s just say they didn’t exactly take it well,” Piper said wryly. “So I did what any rich kid with a talent for tech does when he suddenly finds himself on his own in the world: got myself a garish costume and took up the supervillain thing.”

Roy nodded in sympathy. “Oh, yeah, we’ve all been there,” he said, and Dick might have glared at him except that he didn’t quite sound like he was joking, and really, he kind of had a point.

“Right?” said Piper with a surprisingly easy grin. “Anyway, things weren’t so bad, because I took up with the Rogues pretty quickly, and they may be a bunch of crooks but they’re pretty decent people, too. Mostly. Long as you don’t refer to Len’s cold gun as a freeze ray, anyway. And I guess I was kinda the baby of the group, so they liked to look out for me a bit.”

Dick could actually picture that. He hadn’t really dealt with any of Wally’s Rogues that often, but they had a reputation throughout the superhero community. You couldn’t really imagine the Joker or Vandal Savage or Sinestro taking in a kid who was hurting, at least not with any intention of actually helping them. But the Rogues had always been a bit different.

“I said this used to be my parents’ booth, right?” Piper was saying. “They were regulars here. Every Sunday at 11:00 a.m. sharp. The owner knew to save it for them. Once they figured I was old enough to behave in public, they brought me along occasionally, and sometimes they brought Jerrie, my sister, but more often it was their chance to get away from the kids. Anyway, somehow the rest of the Rogues found out that my parents came here every week, and they knew my sob story, so one Sunday when we were all kind of lazing around the headquarters James, that’s the Trickster, looks up and says, ‘Hey, fellas, anybody else fancy some brunch?’ And I didn’t really think anything of it, right, so I said sure, and then everybody else agreed, too.” Piper frowned. “Except for Boomer, because he was in prison at the time.”

“That certainly puts a damper on things,” said Roy.

“It didn’t really occur to me what they were up to until we got here,” Piper chuckled. “At 11:00 on a Sunday morning. In full costume, too. There were six of us, and in hindsight we probably should have called ahead because the staff looked pretty terrified when we all trooped in, but eventually we convinced them we were there for brunch and perfectly willing to pay just like anyone else. Which we did, by the way. Left a nice tip, too.” He paused and gestured expansively toward the large circular table in the center of the dining hall, within an easy line of sight from their booth. “We sat right there. And my parents were right here, just like always, and I looked over and they were just _fuming_. They called a manager and tried to have us thrown out. Said they refused to dine in a place that would serve criminals and degenerates.”

He hesitated a moment then, and it was obvious he was trying to laugh it off, but Dick sure wasn’t fooled. “You know,” he said, “I don’t think I like your parents very much.”

Piper did manage a real laugh at that. “Yeah, Wally said pretty much the same thing the first time he met them.”

“Oh God, he didn’t punch anyone did he?” asked Roy, though he looked more delighted by the prospect than anything.

Piper snickered. “Oh no, it was much better than that. But you’re getting ahead of the story. So that first time, my parents called the manager, who probably panicked a little bit, I think, because he called the police. And the cops heard the word ‘Rogues’ and _they_ called the Flash.”

“Wait a minute,” said Dick. “Wouldn’t that have been –”

“Yeah. This was back when Wally’s uncle was the Flash. He – oh, thanks Jenna,” Piper said as a monstrous concoction of sugar, flavored syrups, a mountain of whipped cream, and presumably somewhere in all of that a few drops of coffee was set before him.

Dick reached for his own black coffee with a sense of profound relief.

“Your food should be out soon,” Jenna said with a rather mischievous smile. “Don’t cause too much trouble back here, huh, Hartley?”

“No promises,” Piper said, raising his mug in salute.

She headed back to the kitchen, and Piper resumed his story with gusto. “So Flash showed up, right, but when he got here he found a bunch of Rogues all sitting around a table and calmly eating brunch, perfectly well behaved. And we all just kinda ignored him when he came in, right? Like we were just ordinary citizens living our lives. Which we were. But that always used to throw Flash off.” He grinned a little wistfully. “Almost forgot how much fun that was.”

“Wally used to do something similar when we were kids,” Dick said, laughing at the memory. “He thought it was completely hilarious to mix up his identities, and it usually _was_ hilarious because Barry was always so surprised by it. We’d be tagging along to a Justice League meeting and Wally would come dashing down the halls yelling, ‘Uncle Barry!’ Or we’d be hanging out in our civilian identities and Barry would pass by in the hall and Wally would just casually call out ‘Hi Flash!’ Gave Barry a jump every time, and I swear there was more than once I thought Batman was actually gonna kill Wally for it.”

“Then he goes and becomes the Flash and announces his identity to the world,” said Roy, shaking his head fondly. “Thought the whole League was gonna have a heart attack at that one. Though really, I’m still not sure why they were even surprised.”

“Barry probably would have laughed about it,” said Piper with a thoughtful hum. “I mean, that’s how Wally talks about him. He’d have been surprised and initially horrified, but then he’d have seen the humor in it.”

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” said Dick. “That how he was with you, too?”

“In a way,” said Piper. “That first Rogues brunch, when they called the Flash on us? We definitely threw him off, but I guess he figured we must be up to _something_ , so he zipped right up to our table and demanded that Captain Cold tell him what was going on. But Cold wasn’t budging. Just sat there dead silent, and all the others were quiet too, and then there was me, sitting there feeling awkward and a little scared, right, because I was still pretty new at the whole supervillain thing and now here was the Flash right in my face, and I wasn’t even robbing a bank or anything, just trying to eat pancakes and piss my parents off. So Flash is looking around at all of us like he’s trying to pick up telepathy or something, and finally James just looks him straight in the eye and says, ‘You just gonna loom there all day, Flasher, or are you gonna pull up a chair?’”

“Did he?” asked Dick.

“You know, I think he did consider it,” said Piper. “But then he just shook his head and told the manager that since we were paying customers and we weren’t misbehaving there wasn’t really anything he could do. Then he took off. Just like that.” He grinned. “And my parents stormed out a few minutes later. After that the Rogues had a standing brunch date on Sundays, and it wasn’t too long before my parents gave up on coming here. But then Barry died and Wally became the Flash and I ended up leaving the Rogues and you know that whole story, so I won’t bore you. Anyway, a couple months after Wally and I started working together, I come here to meet up with James, and there are my parents, back in their old booth, and they look absolutely _thrilled_ to see me. I figured we were probably gonna reenact the whole scene again with a new Flash, but then, I kid you not, there was this crash outside and I look out the window and there’s Wally running around in a blur of red and Weather Wizard hurling lightning bolts after him, of all things.” Piper shook his head ruefully at this. “So I headed outside, in case Wally needed some help, but he had it covered. And I thought that was gonna be it, right, but then I hear my dad shout, ‘Flash!’ and Wally’s dashing over to my parents with a big goofy smile and doing his usual ‘I’m a friend to everyone in this town’ routine.”

Here Piper paused to take a generous sip of his whipped cream monstrosity, or maybe just to draw out the suspense, judging by that smirk. “So my mom grabs him by the arm, right, and she makes this face and says, ‘Flash, please can you help us, there’s another Rogue here and we just don’t feel safe here with a criminal and social deviant of his sort around.’”

“Jesus,” said Roy. “‘Of his sort.’ You really are a society kid, aren’t you?”

Piper shot him a wry smile. “Oh you have no idea. Anyway, Wally looks over and he sees me standing there in the doorway. And you gotta understand, this was happening maybe a week after I first came out to him, right? And that was…kinda awkward.”

Dick scoffed. “ _That’s_ an understatement. He told us that story. Not exactly his finest hour.”

“No, it really wasn’t,” Piper laughed. “But he made up for it. He looked at me for a split second and then he turned back to my mom and gave her the biggest, most innocent boy scout grin you’ve ever seen in your life, and he said, ‘I’m terribly sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Rathaway, but I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’m forbidden from setting foot in that restaurant.’ My mom looked absolutely shocked by this, and she started protesting about how awful it was and I’m pretty sure she thought that the owner had banned the Flash for the Rogues’ benefit or something, and my dad was all set to raise holy hell. But then Wally looks them both dead in the eyes and he says, ‘Oh, no, it’s a police order, you see. For, uh, public indecency. Yeah. I gave a guy a blowjob in the corner booth and I guess they didn’t like that.’”

“Oh my God,” Roy breathed with all the tremulous awe of someone having a life-altering religious experience. “ _Oh my God._ ”

“Oh God. He didn’t,” groaned Dick, but without any real hope. That kind of well-intentioned but not well thought out statement had Wally written all over it.

“Oh, he did,” Piper said with undisguised glee. “And then, after my parents have stormed off in outrage, he looks over at me and just starts babbling. ‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I said that, I panicked,’ all of that stuff. I think he was expecting me to be mad. And we _did_ have a talk about some of his, uh, underlying assumptions later. But honestly it was…well, it was definitely not the most polished defense I’d ever received, but it probably was the most unhesitating and absolutely the most public, so I figured I could cut him some slack.”

“Cut him some slack?” said Roy, aghast. “Are you kidding? I’ve never been so proud of that boy in my entire life.” He raised his napkin to dab at an imaginary tear. “Our little Kiddie Flash, all grown up and scandalizing society ladies.”

“That’s usually your turf,” said Dick. “Better watch out, Roy, you might have some competition.”

“Oh please,” Roy scoffed. “Society ladies love me. I’m the bad boy with a heart of gold and a tragic, painful past that can only be soothed by their love and understanding.” He struck a pose that was, Dick had to admit, actually a fairly decent imitation of one of those cheap romance novel covers, the ones with the brooding anti-hero staring dramatically into the middle distance while a woman clothed in a fluttery dress gazed up at him adoringly.

Not that Dick had seen many such covers. He was just…generalizing.

Piper leaned in close to Dick’s ear and murmured, “Is he serious?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Dick sighed. He caught a glimpse of Piper’s expression and chuckled lightly. “You poor sap. You thought Wally was the dramatic one, didn’t you?”

“Well…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Roy cut in. “Everyone knows you’re the dramatic one, Pixie Boots. Wally’s the funny one. Garth is the nice one, and yes, it _is_ true what they say about the nice ones. Donna’s the badass, of course.”

“Uh huh,” said Dick. “And where does that leave you?”

Roy grinned. “I’m the sexy rebellious one.”

“I don’t know,” mused Piper, making a show of stroking his chin in thought. “Have you ever been banned from a restaurant for public indecency?”

“Not yet,” Roy grumbled.

Piper laughed, and Dick firmly resolved to murder Roy all over again, because Piper had a really nice laugh and Dick was still noticing way too much.

“Besides,” said Roy a little sullenly, “it doesn’t sound like Wally’s _actually_ banned, anyway.”

“Oh no, he is,” Piper said. “The story got around, and the owner at the time was so annoyed about Wally giving his restaurant ‘bad press’ that he actually did ban him. It was a whole thing in the local media for weeks. Opinion pieces and letters to the editor and all that, plus all the talking heads endlessly debating the incident. People saying that Wally was disgracing the Flash legacy and shaming his uncle’s name, and other people saying that while he could have, uh, chosen his words more carefully, shall we say, his intent was good and at least he’d ‘sparked conversation about public acceptance of the LGBT community’ or some other combination of buzzwords like that.” Piper shook his head. “It was a pretty rough couple of weeks. But then Grodd took over City Hall and tried to turn the whole city into apes, and the Flash saved the day as always, and the whole thing kind of blew over.” He shrugged. “This place has a new owner now, so _technically_ Wally probably could come in, but at this point he’s so committed to the idea of being banned that he’s determined to stick with it, I think. And it _is_ a Rogue hangout still, so he likes to give them their space when he can. But the staff loves him, so they make a point of sending me home with food for him every time I’m here.”

“Even when he’s banned they love him,” said Dick with a laugh. “Yeah, that sounds like Wally.”

“But he could make an exception, right? Since he’s not _really_ banned anyway?” Roy pressed. “I mean, in the right circumstances?”

“Well…I suppose,” said Piper, who obviously didn’t know Roy well enough to head this off.

“Oh no,” said Dick, who unfortunately did, but knew it was probably already too late. “What are you planning?”

Roy smirked. “Does this place do party rentals?”

*

It was the midday lull after the Saturday morning rush, and Courtney desperately needed a coffee.

Things had been pretty quiet at the aquarium so far today, which was a good thing really. It wasn’t as though she _wanted_ to deal with screaming children or irate parents or pinch-faced middle-aged ladies with designer handbags demanding to see a manager. She _certainly_ wasn’t hoping for a supervillain attack. It was just that between her two jobs sleep was something of a luxury these days, and it would have been really nice if there was an easily accessible coffee machine behind the ticket counter, that was all.

“Hi, welcome to Central Aquarium, how are you today?” she said brightly to the couple who’d just stepped up to the counter. At least they were practically the only ones here. Maybe she could step out for a coffee after this sale.

“Hi!” their little girl gushed. “I’m Lian and I’m great ‘cause I’m gonna see boogas! How are you?”

Courtney chuckled, actually focusing on the three people in front of her for the first time. “I’m doing well, than–” she started to say, but trailed off as recognition dawned. The woman looked awfully familiar, like someone she’d seen on TV before. And the man was –

“Oh my God.”

“Shh,” said the Flash with a wink. “We’re incognito today.”

He smiled. Linda Park smiled too. _Oh God_ , thought Courtney. _I’m too bisexual for this._

“Right, of course,” she managed. Was she blushing? Oh God, she was definitely blushing. “Um, so, that’s two adults and one child, general admission? We also have a special exhibit with a pair of beluga whales, um –”

“Boogas, boogas, boogas!” the little girl, Lian, chanted gleefully.

“Uh, yeah,” said the Flash with a rueful laugh. “We definitely want the special exhibit.”

“Okay,” said Courtney. She busied herself with printing the tickets and tried not to panic. Was she supposed to charge them? Well, yes, obviously, that was her job, she sold tickets and they were here for tickets. But it was the Flash! But he’d said they were incognito, and how could she possibly explain to her manager why she’d given out three free tickets without ruining their anonymity? Oh God, why hadn’t they covered this situation in orientation?

She passed the tickets wordlessly across the counter, and Lian lunged forward in the Flash’s arms to snatch them up, beaming and waving her hands wildly, very nearly overbalancing.

The Flash laughed and adjusted his hold on the squirming girl. “Okay, princess, we’ll see the whales soon, I promise.”

“She’s really excited,” said Linda, smiling easily at Courtney as she slid several bills across the counter, which at least resolved _that_ internal debate, although her smile did absolutely nothing to resolve Courtney’s internal butterfly situation. “Is there a certain time we should go, or –”

“Your tickets are good for the whole day, and you can leave and come back if you need to,” she recited, desperately glad that this question had a scripted answer. “If you’re interested in learning more about the belugas, though, there’s, um, an ‘ocean adventure’ talk in the exhibit at 1:30 and 4:00 today.”

“What do you think, Lian?” Linda asked. “Think they’ll say anything you don’t already know?”

The girl scrunched up her nose in thought. “Maybe,” she allowed, though she sounded rather dubious about the prospect.

“Okay,” said the Flash. “Whales first, then lunch.” He shot her a quick, distracted smile. “Thanks, Courtney.”

Oh God. He knew her _name_. “How–” she squeaked.

“Crossroads Mall, almost two years ago now, I think?” he said. “There was an angry gorilla involved.” He looked suddenly worried. “It is Courtney, right?”

“Yeah,” she managed. “Yeah, that’s, uh, that’s me.”

Of course she remembered. He’d saved her life that day, and that wasn’t something a girl just forgot. But she’d been one of dozens of hostages he’d rescued, and she hadn’t really expected him to remember her specifically, let alone know her _name_.

“Cool,” said the Flash with another brilliant grin. “Good to see you’re doing okay. Thanks again!”

They started to turn away, so before she could psych herself out of it, Courtney blurted, “Wait! Could you, um…” She lost her nerve then and, in the absence of words, simply slid her magazine and a sharpie across the counter to Linda.

It was a copy of _Twin Cities Monthly_ , one of those local interest magazines that only tourists and desperately bored people in waiting rooms ever actually read. But somebody had left it behind the ticket counter and, well, Courtney had been bored. The big headline story was about the folk music festival in Keystone next month, but there was a smaller blurb about the upcoming wedding of the twin cities’ hometown hero and reporter Linda Park. Courtney hadn’t actually read the article (yet), but she figured it would be more appropriate for an autograph than a simple sheet of printer paper, which was her only other real option.

“Sure,” said Linda with a smile that was too warm and genuine to really look at home on TV, and God, Courtney wasn’t sure how she was supposed to handle this.

Linda scrawled her signature just above the image of her interviewing the Flash, then passed the magazine to him. He shifted Lian to one arm and made a show of considering his message. Then his eyes lit with a mischievous smile and his hand blurred across the page. Courtney wasn’t even ashamed to admit that she stared. It was one thing to know he was the Flash, and another thing entirely to see it.

“There you go,” he said, sliding the magazine back across the counter to her. “Good to see you again, Courtney. Take care of yourself, huh?”

“Yeah,” Courtney mumbled. If the earth could open up and swallow her right now, that would be just fine, thanks.

They both smiled again, and Courtney smiled helplessly back, and then they were headed into the exhibits. She sat and stared after them for a bit, still not quite convinced that had actually happened. Finally she looked down at the magazine.

_Best wishes, Linda Park_ was scrawled above her picture, and next to that _Wallace Rudolph West_ – Rudolph? really? Courtney thought a little hysterically – and a cartoonish depiction of a rather angry looking gorilla about to be hit in the face by a pie.

Her nerves burst forth as a fit of giggles, and she reached for her phone to snap a photo. She was going to show this to absolutely _everyone_. She was –

_We’re incognito today._

Well. Maybe she could wait until after the aquarium closed today to share her news. She could keep their secret for a few hours.

“What was that all about?” asked Emma, gliding over on her wheeled chair from the opposite end of the long ticket counter.

Courtney slid the magazine into her bag before Emma could spot it. “What was what about?”

“You calling those people back like that,” Emma said. “It sounded serious.” But her laughing eyes made it pretty obvious that she didn’t actually mean that, so Courtney didn’t feel too bad about misleading her.

“Oh, um, they – they almost forgot their receipt,” she mumbled, blushing all over again at the absurdity of her excuse. Was that really the best she could come up with?

“God, you’re such a nerd,” Emma laughed.

“Yeah, yeah,” Courtney grumbled, but she wasn’t really that upset. After all, she was the one with the autographs.

“Hey, I’m gonna go grab a coffee while we’ve got a break in traffic, you want one?” asked Emma.

“Yes, please.”

*

“How come that lady wanted you to sign her magazine?” Lian asked. She was back on the ground now, one hand clasped in Linda’s and the other in Wally’s, tugging them both along determinedly toward the beluga exhibit on the far side of the aquarium’s cafeteria. Linda stifled a laugh as Wally looked longingly after a rapidly receding burger joint.

He noticed her silent laughter and grinned slyly. “Well, Lian, your Aunt Linda is very famous,” he said, eyes dancing as Linda glared at him.

“Really?” Lian asked, staring up at Linda with newfound hero worship, the whales momentarily forgotten in the face of this information. “Wow.”

“She sure is,” said Wally before Linda could so much as open her mouth. “She’s on TV and everything.”

Lian looked duly impressed by this. “Are you famous too, Uncle Wally? ‘Cause you signed the magazine too.”

“Nah,” he said, still grinning at Linda like this was the cleverest thing he’d ever done. “But I’m gonna marry Linda so that makes me famous by association.”

Linda scoffed. “Flattery, while appreciated, will get you nowhere,” she said archly.

He deployed the puppy eyes. “What about flattery and a cute butt?”

“Hmm,” said Linda. “I’ll consider it.”

Lian frowned at them both. “Butts aren’t cute,” she said with great authority.

“You know what?” said Linda, smirking at Wally. “You’re absolutely right, Lian.”

Lian beamed at this, and Wally pouted. Linda laughed in his face.

“No points for you, mister,” she said. “Now come on. Let’s go see some whales.”

*

“Okay,” said Dick between bites of what really was a damn good waffle. “So we’re doing dinner here, and that’s a good start, even if it is a little cruel –”

“Cruel?” Roy cut in. “Come on, man, that’s at least half the point of a bachelor party.”

“True enough.” Dick grinned. “But the other half of the point is to have some fun, and as much as Wally loves food, I do feel like we should have something to offer besides just a nice dinner.”

“Sure,” said Roy. “But he wants it to be child-friendly, apparently.” He said this with a pointed roll of his eyes. “So that means no strippers _and_ no booze, and what’s a bachelor party without those things, anyway?”

“Less of a hypermasculine stereotype, for one thing,” said Piper dryly.

“Come on, man,” Roy whined, arms spreading wide incredulously. “I mean, what does he expect us to do, go and get pedicures?”

There was a silence.

Piper looked at Dick. Dick looked at Piper. Both of them started to nod.

“Oh no,” said Roy. “No, no, absolutely not, I was joking, you _know_ I was joking, you are not allowed to take that suggestion seriously.”

Neither of the best men appeared to hear him.

“It’s not a bad idea,” said Piper to Dick.

“It’s actually a pretty good idea,” said Dick to Piper.

They both grinned, looking entirely too pleased with themselves.

“I hate you both,” said Roy.

“Okay, okay,” Dick laughed. “But seriously Roy, think about it. I mean, I know you don’t object to the idea of pedicures on principle. You have a standing spa appointment, and don’t even try to pretend you don’t.”

“Why would I?” Roy grumbled. “Everybody needs to be pampered now and then. But that’s not exactly _special_ , is it? I mean, a bachelor party is supposed to be a big deal.”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Dick, looking suddenly serious. “Maybe it’s not special for you or me, but be honest, man. How often do you think Wally splurges on a spa day for himself?”

Roy was quiet for a while after that. Finally he sighed. “Okay,” he said. “You may have a point.”

“Exactly,” said Piper. “You know Wally’s never going to spend his money on himself. But if it’s for a party that we’re planning, he’ll go along with it. _And_ he’ll let us pay for it. I mean, he’ll probably convince himself that he’s doing it as a favor to us, but if that’s what it takes…”

“Yeah,” said Roy with a resigned sigh. Piper also made a really good point, and he couldn’t exactly deny it. “Okay, fine, you guys win.”

“Excellent,” said Piper, rubbing his hands together in glee. “I know just the place, too. We can –”

He was interrupted by a startlingly loud buzz from Roy’s phone.

Roy glanced down at the screen and grinned. “Video call from Linda,” he said, sliding the phone toward Dick in the middle of the booth.

The three of them huddled close around the screen and watched as Lian, sitting on Wally’s shoulders, pressed her hand up against a glass wall and stared in rapt wonder at the beluga on the other side. The two were face to face, and Dick would swear that the whale looked every bit as enchanted as the girl.

The beluga fluttered one of its flippers, and Lian squealed in delight. “She waved at me!” she crowed. “Aunt Linda, did you see, did you see? She waved at me!”

“I saw,” Linda chuckled from somewhere off screen. “I think she’s excited to meet you, too.”

“Wow,” whispered Lian, pressing even closer to the glass and beaming at the whale on the other side.

Roy looked at Dick and Piper with a nearly identical expression. “My daughter is the cutest kid in the entire world,” he said smugly.

Ordinarily Dick made it a point not to let Roy get away with smug, but in this case he was pretty well justified. “She really is,” he said with a smile.

*

When Roy had all but forced him to take his money for the aquarium visit – seriously, he’d shoved the money into Wally’s hand and said, “Don’t make this weird, dude,” and they _all_ knew that was an argument ending move – Wally had been absolutely sure that a hundred bucks was way too much. Of course he couldn’t _say_ that, though, because Roy had invoked the sacred words. So he’d just figured he’d hit Roy with a whole lot of change when they got back.

But he hadn’t counted on three things.

For one, he hadn’t realized that the belugas were a special exhibit and therefore cost extra. He also hadn’t figured on the aquarium’s food court rivaling Six Flags when it came to prices.

And he hadn’t really thought about the gift shop.

Roy had said that Lian was allowed to pick out one thing from the shop, as long as it didn’t exceed the cash they had left. Which, after the tickets and the food, was only about seven bucks.

And Lian, apparently, had expensive taste.

“I want this one,” she announced happily, clutching a stuffed beluga toy larger than she was.

Wally caught Linda’s eye. There was absolutely no way that thing cost less than $7.

“Well, sweetheart, um, let’s check how much it costs first, okay?” he said.

Lian scrunched up her nose in confusion. It was admittedly a pretty adorable look. “Daddy always lets me get a present,” she said. Her tone indicated that she wasn’t accusing him of anything yet, but that could easily change.

“I know, princess, and you can get a present today, too. But we only have so much money left, okay? So we have to be sure we can afford it.”

“Oh,” said Lian, frowning. She handed the stuffed whale over with great reluctance, and Wally nearly groaned aloud when he saw the price tag.

Wordlessly, he showed it to Linda. $65.95.

“Lian, sweetie, are you sure you want this one?” Linda asked.

“Uh huh,” said Lian. She punctuated this with a firm nod.

“Well…” Wally chewed his lip. What was he supposed to do in this situation? What would his parents have done?

Okay, that was a stupid question. What would Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris have done?

Wally handed the whale carefully back to Lian and turned to Linda. “Roy did pay for everything else,” he murmured, soft enough that Lian wouldn’t hear. “And if I grab an extra free meal at one of the buffets in town this week, then…that should cover it, I think? I was planning to do that for the tickets, anyway.”

Linda glanced from his sheepish smile to Lian’s bright, pleading eyes and gave a little resigned huff of laughter. “Oh, all right,” she said. “You big softie.”

Wally grinned down at Lian. “Okay, princess, let’s get your whale.”

“Thank you, Uncle Wally!” she gushed, hugging his knee with one arm while the other clutched the whale firmly. “I’m gonna name her Mika, like the one we met today!”

They paid for the toy, and Wally carefully removed the price tag. Not that he actually expected to fool Roy, but hey, there was no point in just handing him the evidence.

And apparently his paranoia had paid off this time, because there were three familiar faces waiting for them just outside the aquarium.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!” Lian cried, darting forward to fling herself – and her whale – into her father’s arms. “I met a whale named Mika and she was _so_ pretty and she waved at me! I waved at her friend too but he didn’t wave back. But that’s okay, ‘cause the lady said maybe he was just shy, so I only waved a little ‘cause I didn’t want to scare him. His name was Moby Dick but Aunt Linda said he’s named after a famous whale in a book and not after Uncle Dick.” She seemed a little disappointed by this, but added, all the same, “He was still cool, though.”

“That sounds really cool, princess,” said Roy, grinning as he scooped his daughter up, plush whale and all. “Who’s this?”

Lian beamed. “This is Mika!” she said. “I named her after the Mika who lives here. Uncle Wally and Aunt Linda got her for me.”

“Uh huh,” said Roy. He eyed the toy for a moment, then turned on Wally with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, there’s no way that –”

Wally grinned. “Dude,” he said. “Don’t make it weird.”

Roy started to scowl, but the expression quickly disappeared, replaced by a wicked smirk. “All right,” he said. “I’m willing to let this go. Because you, sir, are an icon, and I am proud to know you.”

“Oh God, Piper, what did you tell them?”

Piper was the picture of innocence. “They wanted to know why you’re banned from Bistro 76.”

Wally groaned. “Oh, is that all? Okay. Cool.” He turned to Linda, catching her hand and pressing it to his lips. “I love you, and I’m sorry it’s come to this. But I have to go and throw myself in the river now.”

Linda scoffed. Piper raised an eyebrow at Dick and Roy. “Are you _sure_ he’s not the dramatic one?” he asked.

“Okay,” said Roy, “he does have his moments. But you’ve never seen Dick sprawled out in a perfect dying swan pose after getting himself knocked across the room by the villain of the week.”

“He does do that kind of a lot,” said Wally, momentarily distracted from his pressing need to acquaint himself closely with the mighty Missouri River.

“You’re all just jealous that you can’t pull it off,” said Dick with a grin. “Anyway, Wally, I don’t see why you’re so upset about this. Sure, you definitely could have handled it better, but it makes for a pretty funny story.”

“And Jerrie tells me that my mom still sometimes rails about that shameless deviant in spandex, so you definitely made a lasting impression,” Piper laughed.

Wally considered this. “Huh,” he said at last. “Do you think I can put that on my resume?”

Roy sniggered. “I’d definitely hire someone with those qualifications.”

“Of course you would,” Wally sighed. “But, look, it’s not that. It’s just…I don’t know. If I’d just shot my mouth off that would be one thing, but it was – I was caught off guard and kind of panicking so I just went on autopilot, you know? And apparently that meant responding to Piper’s dad like he was _my_ dad.”

“Oh,” said Piper softly. There was an understanding light in his eyes and Wally honestly couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse.

So he laughed it off. “Yeah,” he shrugged. “You know how it is, when your dad’s having a go and he’s gonna think what he wants anyway, so…you might as well really piss him off, right?”

“Yeah,” said Piper and Roy almost in unison. Dick didn’t say anything aloud, but he was nodding.

Linda was smiling fondly at all of them, not a hint of pity in her eyes, and Wally fell in love with her all over again.

“Daddy,” said Lian, tugging at her father’s sleeve, “what’s a dev-ant?”

“Uh,” said Roy, looking around for inspiration but finding none.

“It’s a word some people use when they want you to think that someone is bad because of who they love,” said Linda.

Roy shot her a grateful smile as he bopped Lian on the nose. “That’s right, princess,” he said. “Some people get really upset about two men dating, or two women, or a man and woman who don’t look exactly alike, or…well, some people get upset about a lot of things, actually.”

Lian took her time considering this. “So they’d be mad if Uncle Dick dated Mr. Piper?” she asked.

Wally bit his lip to keep from laughing, while Dick appeared to be choking on his own tongue. Piper was looking a bit pink, Linda was eyeing Piper and Dick with interest, and Roy was making absolutely no effort to hide his grin.

“I think they probably wouldn’t like that, sweetie,” Roy said.

“That’s silly,” Lian announced. “I think Mr. Piper is cool. I like his hair.”

“Uh, thank you,” said Piper. He rubbed one hand over the back of his neck, inadvertently causing his ponytail to flip over his right shoulder. He was decidedly not looking at Dick.

Roy was shaking with silent laughter now, and Wally couldn’t hold back anymore. “I think Uncle Dick likes his hair, too,” he said with a wink.

Dick had never been one to blush, but he had other tells, and right now he was looking pretty huffy. “I changed my mind,” he grumbled. “You can go jump in the river now.”

“Nah,” said Wally. “I think I’ll stay. If only to find out what Piper’s got in that box.” He gestured to the cardboard takeout box, marked with the Bistro 76 logo and tied off with curling red ribbon, that was half hidden behind Piper’s back.

“It’s peach rhubarb,” Piper said, passing him the box. “A new recipe Marco’s come up with. He wants your verdict, apparently.”

“I can’t believe you’re buying my forgiveness with pie,” Wally muttered.

“Who said I want your forgiveness?” Piper laughed. “Anyway, I notice you’re not refusing.”

“Are you kidding? That’s one of Marco’s pies, man. I’m not passing that up.”

Dick rolled his eyes and headed toward a nearby bench. “Come on then, Twinkle Toes. Let’s get you fueled up so you can run us back home.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Wally sighed. “You only want me for the taxi service.”

“Obviously,” said Dick. “Though I prefer to think of it as appreciating your talents. What else are friends for?”

“Can I have some pie, Daddy?” asked Lian, carefully setting Mika to one side on the bench so she wouldn’t get dirty.

“Course you can, princess,” said Wally before Roy could answer. “You’re all having some of this pie, because if Marco really wants a taste test, then he’s going to need multiple opinions. Roy, you wanna do the honors?”

“Sure,” said Roy. He took out something that _looked_ like a pocket knife, but Wally knew better. The only one who seemed even slightly startled when a full-sized kitchen knife emerged from the handle was Piper, and he shook it off pretty quickly. He’d worked with the Trickster for years, and he’d definitely seen weirder things.

Everybody got a small peach-and-rhubarb slice, and Wally got the rest of the pie. It was pretty great: a nice mix of sweet and tart. They’d probably give it some ridiculously fancy name at the bistro, but that was all right. He’d never eat it there anyway.

“Marco wants to call it the speedster special,” said Piper. “Because it’s in your colors.”

Wally grinned, savoring his last bite of pie. Well. That was all right, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Headcanon that "don't make it weird" is the official argument-ending phrase among the original five Titans. It's a way of saying, "Listen, I'm gonna take care of you and you're gonna let me, so let's not make a big deal out of it." It gets used in a lot of different ways. Wally is definitely the mom friend, so he probably says it most often when he's mothering people who are inclined to insist they're _fine_ and can totally take care of themselves. I suspect that people say it to Wally most often in relation to money, because he's a working class guy who lives paycheck to paycheck, and basically all of his friends are royalty or the children of literal millionaires and billionaires.


End file.
